Behind Golden Eyes
by Flamingo Bubbles
Summary: A war that's stood unresolved for years, a group of mysterious child snatchers, a young boy who's just trying to survive day by day. When these 3 elements meet, Oliver is thrown into a life he neither expected nor wanted.
1. Chapter 1

"Get back here you little brat!"

Instead of slowing as the voice commanded him, the young boy tucked his head closer to his chest as a poorly aimed rock sailed several inches to his left and clattered harmlessly to the pavement. He could hear the angry sound of shouts follow behind his escape but his keen ears also noted a distinct lack of the sound of following footsteps.

Even though his breathing came in ragged breaths that rattled his chest, he didn't allow himself the luxury of slowing until he had run for what he judged to be a good five minutes. He fell in step with the crowd around him and tried his best to appear inconspicuous. It wasn't hard to fit in; all he had to do was look at the ground and shuffle his feet like all the other despondent souls packed around him. Even though he knew there was the possibility it would single him out from the crowd, he couldn't help but glance back once or twice to make sure no one was following him. It seemed like so far his luck was holding out.

But as his eyes swept the crowd, he also picked up on the disturbing fact that the number of men walking around in green, cleanly pressed uniforms was clearly increasing. He calculated that he would have to move his operations elsewhere if he didn't want to get caught.

After one more cautionary glance, the young boy gave a sigh of relief as he slightly loosened the iron grip he had on the prize currently clutched to his chest. He looked down with a satisfied smile as he broke away from the crowd and headed down one of the many alleys that branched off the main road.

The boy counted the cobbles on the street to himself as his footsteps echoed harshly against the close walls. He had just reached one hundred and twenty three when he stopped and turned to look at a particularly dilapidated building. The only thing that set it apart from the other closely crammed houses around it was the fact that it was more run down and it had been abandoned for years.

At least that's what most people tended to believe.

But if anyone took the time to carefully examine the building, they might have noticed the tattered rags serving as curtains or the makeshift doors placed over several open areas. As it were, everyone was far too busy staring at their feet and shuffling through their lives to be concerned with the residents of one dilapidated building.

None of these thoughts passed through the young boy's mind as he approached the building. He had come to this building enough that he no longer even noticed its ruined state. He knew it to be safe even if it didn't look like it. He approached one of the doors boldly and, carefully cradling his prize in the crook of his free arm, gave a few rapid knocks on the soft plywood.

He heard the distinctive sound of shuffling and a hushed voice behind the door. The sounds died down for a second before the door flung open to usher the boy into the building. He took a single step into the room before he was nearly knocked down by a force crashing into him.

"Oliver! You're back!" A small figure yelled as he clung to the boy's leg.

The young boy, Oliver, gave a bemused shake of his head before he gently pried the younger boy from his leg. He intentionally moved his prize behind his back as he looked down at the short boy who was now looking confusedly up at him. Oliver tried his best to maintained what he hoped was an intimidating manner.

"Yes it's me this time, but you forgot to ask for the password again Ryuto. What if it had been someone else? You know the Child Sweepers are always looking for more victims."

The Child Sweepers; an organization of people that had quickly become the subject of bed time stories told to children to make them behave. The stories said that if they found a child walking by themself, they would spirit them away never to be seen again. Rumors raged about what happened to the children, but part of the most terrifying facts about the group was that no one knew the truth. It was a common tale, and terror, shared among the children that lived on the street.

At the mention of the group, Ryuto's face turned a deathly pale pallor as he realized for the first time the mistake he had made. His lips moved but no sounds escaped his terror stricken mind. He looked about ready to burst into tears; he knew that forgetting to ask for the password could spell disaster for him and Oliver had warned him that if he continued to forget there would be decided repercussions. Ryuto had no idea how exactly Oliver was going to punish him, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

Oliver gave one more shake of his head before he lightly ruffled Ryuto's hair. Ryuto flinched at the initial touch, but once he realized he wasn't in trouble, he looked up wonderingly at Oliver.

"Just make sure you remember from now on. If the Child Sweepers pick you up, I'm not sure I'll be able to help you." Ryuto responded by giving several furious bobs of his head to demonstrate his understanding but he still had a look of mild terror on his face.

"Relax. Nothing happened this time; as long as you remember for next time we'll be fine. Besides," Oliver said as he allowed a smile to settle on his lips, "Today's too good a day to be angry."

With those words, Oliver produced his prize from behind his back. When he saw what the older boy was carrying, all traces of fear melted from Ryuto's face to be replaced with thinly veiled, ecstatic joy.

"Oh wow! Is that all really for us?" He said excitedly as he inched his hands towards what Oliver was carrying.

"Yes it's for us but you're not allowed to take any until Yuki gets here."

"What do you mean? She's been holding on to your arm the whole time," Ryuto responded with a vague gesture towards the general direction of Oliver's arm as his eyes remained on what Oliver held in his hand.

Oliver noticed for the first time the slight pressure on his lower arm and the presence of the young girl clinging tightly to his arm. When he looked over at her, she lifted her eyes for a moment to acknowledge her name before she resumed staring at the prize in Oliver's hand. Although she wasn't inching closer and closer like Ryuto was, her eyes shown with just as much excitement.

"Since everyone's here, I don't see why we shouldn't start," Oliver said as he handed the prize off to Ryuto who took it greedily into his small hands with a glowing smile. He tore off a piece before he handed it off to Yuki who took it just as excitedly and also tore off a piece of her own. The item was the returned to Oliver who couldn't help but look at it and frown deeply.

It sickened him that it was considered such a luxury to have a single loaf of bread.

"Are you gonna eat that Oliver?" Ryuto managed between mouthfuls of crusty bread. Oliver was pulled from the musings by the sound of the young boy's voice. He gave a wry smile and broke off another chunk of the loaf for both Ryuto and Yuki. The younger kids took the bread in their hands and ate as quickly as their bodies would allow.

Oliver evaluated them as he absentmindedly munched on his own chunk of bread. Both the children were skinny to the point that it was unhealthy. The boy, Ryuto, had extremely light blonde hair that, if the light caught it just right, seemed to almost be a vague tint of green. Yuki had dark black hair that was pulled back into two ponytails by baubles that she never took out. It was something from her past life, before she lived on the street, that she refused to give up.

_That means at some point she had _someone _that would buy her presents…_ Oliver ponded between bites of his bread.

"Hey Oliver," Ryuto's voice broke into Oliver's thoughts, "Do you have any more?"

Oliver looked at the young boy who was looking hopefully up at him. Oliver felt a stab of guilt run through him but he pushed it away and gave a small smile.

"Of course there's more, I just have to go and get some from the secret storeroom."

A lie; a lie he had told to the young boy many times.

"Okay!" The boy said as his face lit up once more, "If you can, you should try to bring back some of those apples you brought last time! They were so good and-"

Oliver mind was pulled from Ryuto's happy ramblings by the feeling of a tugging on his shirt. When he turned to look at the source, he found Yuki still clinging tightly to his shirt and looking up at him.

Her intelligent brown eyes informed him that she didn't believe him for a second.

She knew there was no secret storeroom.

There was only stealing.

Even though he knew Yuki was aware of the truth, Oliver tried his best to downplay the truth of what he was doing. Both he and Yuki knew they needed to steal to live even if the little girl was far less comfortable with this truth than Oliver was.

"You're hungry too, aren't you Yuki?"

The girl responded with a vehement shake of her head, but the rumblings of her stomach betrayed her true feelings. She looked down almost as if ashamed of her hunger. Oliver tried his best to comfort her as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Don't worry Yuki; someday when I'm older I'll repay everyone for everything I stole. But until then we need some food."

It was a line he had said to the young girl many times before in an attempt to comfort her.

Sometimes if he said it enough he believed it himself.

Like always, the girl gave a resigned nod of her head as she reluctantly released Oliver's sleeve. With Yuki's discomforts as allayed as they were going to be, Oliver gave a wave of his hand and headed out the door.

"Don't forget to ask for the password!" He yelled over his shoulder as he broke into a soft jog and began to plan his strategy for how to obtain food.

_Well I can't go back to the main street, that baker woman warned everyone about me with that screaming of hers. Plus, there were tons of soldiers around there…so where exactly can I go? I can't come back empty handed…_

As Oliver continued to ponder his current predicament, he allowed his feet to carry him wherever they wished. When he actually lifted his eyes to look at the world around him, he felt his eyes settle on a building not far away.

It was a small, dimly lit church.

He felt the corner of his mouth lift into a smile as he decided this would be his target for the night. The church types were always overly trusting; they would never suspect one, lone child with fair hair and golden eyes to be any sort of danger. Without a second thought, he began to whistle a tuneless song as he walked his way leisurely towards the building.

_The perfect target,_ He thought happily as he approached the large oak doors. Instead of entering the front door, he furtively ducked around the corner and absentmindedly ran his hand along the wall. He turned his eyes toward the sky to see that the sun was quickly setting and soon all would be dark. If he was going to get in the church, this was the perfect time.

As he tested the first window, he found to his disappointment that it was firmly locked and there was no way for him to pry it open. With a slight tut of disappointment, he continued on to the next window. He found this window in the exact same state as the first one. His optimism waning, he figured he could at least walk around the perimeter of the building and see what he could see. He rounded the corner so that he was now standing by the back of the building. What he saw there brought back his initial optimism.

A window was standing open.

Quickly running to the window, Oliver paused for a moment to listen for the sound of voices. He found to his mounting hopefulness that all was quiet in the room. He looked quickly about him to ensure that the street was deserted before he hoisted himself into the room.

He landed with a soft thud on a wood floor in a crouch, ready to move if need be. But he found that he was alone in a room that appeared to be a changing room of sorts. There were clothes splayed everywhere about the room, some hung neatly on the backs of chairs, others hanging on hangers and still other crumpled in small heaps on the floor.

Oliver looked down at his shirt that was three sizes too big and his pants that had been worn almost threadbare.

It was getting close to winter…

Oliver vehemently shook the idea from his mind as he walked towards the door and did his best to not let his eyes wander to the clothing in the room. He had come here to get food and that's exactly what he was going to do.

Convinced that the hallway was empty, Oliver crept down the corridor towards the back of the building. Having infiltrated many different kinds of buildings, he knew that businesses, churches and even homes tended to have their kitchens situated near the back. His nose informed him that his suspicions weren't unfounded as he rounded a corner and was met with the warm smell of things cooking.

Unfortunately for him, the sound of conversation also floated down the hall.

He crept down the hall and peeked into the doorway where the voices were coming from. He felt his heart drop slightly in his chest. In the room stood two women who were busily chatting as they cooked.

Oliver had to make a split decision. He couldn't stay in the hallway for long; he didn't know how long he would have until someone rounded the corner and spotted him. His options were either to head back the way he had come or risk being caught by the two women in an attempt to get food.

He knew instantly what he had to do.

On silent feet he slipped into the kitchen and behind one of the cabinets. As he evaluated his surroundings, looking for the easiest way to pick up food and get out, he subconsciously listened to the exchange between the two women in the kitchen.

"…All those little boys, so well behaved! Now if only my son was like that!"

"Oh their well-behaved alright, but boys all the same. Have you seen that changing room? They left all their clothes thrown everywhere! They may be young professionals, but they're still just ten year old boys."

At the mention of boys his own age, Oliver couldn't help but feel his curiosity piqued. He looked over to where the women were chatting. 'Young professionals' that were his age? What exactly were these women talking about?

"Well I suppose we can excuse them for a little bit of messiness," the stockier of the two women said as she turned to her companion, "I mean, have you heard their voices? They sound like little angels!"

"Why did you get to listen to them?"

"I just heard them practicing earlier today," The woman responded with what seemed to be pride.

"Well I don't think it's very fair that you get to listen to them and I don't! Aren't they performing right now? I don't see why we should be back in the kitchens while everyone else gets to listen to them performing!" The other woman responded.

"The stew can probably mind itself for a few minutes," The stocky woman mumbled almost as if to herself.

"And the roast doesn't need to be tended to for another few minutes," The other woman volunteered.

_Just one lucky stroke after another today,_ Oliver thought from his hiding place as he watched and silently hoped the women would carry out their plan.

"I don't see why we should be the only ones not to hear them sing! After all, we are the ones cooking their meal for them! We'll listen to one song and then come back and take care of the stew and roast."

"Good, but let's make it quick so the priest doesn't find out."

Oliver ducked back around his cabinet as he listened to the sound of the two women exiting the kitchen. He silently counted to ten before he appeared from his hiding place and began to look frantically about the kitchen. He had no idea how much time he had until the women came back, but he didn't want to risk being caught; he had to be quick.

Not wasting any time, Oliver opened the cabinet he had been hiding behind. He felt his breath escape in wonder.

The cabinet was brimming with all different kinds of food. Fresh fruits that seemed to glow in the dim light of the kitchen were situated next to wheels of cheese stacked into precarious towers. Vegetables he couldn't even begin to fathom the name of were nestled in baskets on the floor.

For a moment, all Oliver could do was stare in wonder at the vast medley of food contained in the inconspicuous cabinet. It almost seemed like a fevered dream to see so much food in once place. But as he continued to stare at the food and the wonder wore off, Oliver was left with only one emotion; anger.

Yuki and Ryuto were starving in the street and a church, which was supposed to help the people, was hoarding food for their own purposes. Any semblance of guilt Oliver had about stealing from a church quickly melted away. As he picked up an empty basket and began to gather anything he could get his hands on, he felt nothing but justification.

If the church didn't want to help the people of its own free will, then Oliver was going to claim what was rightfully his.

After filling his basket close to brimming, Oliver ran back to the door and made sure no one was about. Moving as swiftly and silently as possible, he retraced his steps until he was in the same room he had entered through. Carefully cradling the basket under his arm, he headed towards the window and had every intention of leaving and never coming back.

That was until out of the corner of his eye he spotted an outfit hanging in the closet.

It was a long blue jacket with gold trimmings that seemed to be for a young boy about Oliver's age. Hanging not far off, there was a hat which appeared to match with the jacket. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Oliver felt compelled to look at the jacket closer. It had been so long since he had new clothing and this was just hanging there, ripe for the taking. When he reached out and touched the soft fabric, he knew that he had to have the jacket.

He worked furiously to un-button the jacket but he had barely undone two buttons before he heard the distinctive sound of young voices and footsteps. Oliver cursed under his breath as he abandoned his attempt to obtain the jacket. He quickly scooped up his basket and in one swift motion headed out the window.

As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he took off running. He knew if any of the soldiers in the area saw a child carrying a basket this late at night, there would be questions he wouldn't be able to answer. He silently thanked the sky that it was dark, making his escape much easier.

Yet despite his reasoning that he had to get out of there as quickly as possible, he couldn't help but look back at the church and think about the unused jacket that was still hanging neatly and uselessly. Even as his footsteps carried him further away, his thoughts remained on the church.

He knew he was going to come back to claim the jacket as his own.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I am very aware that Oliver's official age is 12. All will be made clear in later chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

With a contented sigh and a slight giggle of delight, Ryuto plopped down onto his makeshift bed, sending up a mild cloud of dust. As Oliver proceeded to hide away the food they hadn't eaten that night, he couldn't help but glance over at the young boy who was now complacently rubbing his full stomach. His eyes also swept over to take in the form of Yuki, bundled tightly in her thin blanket, sleeping not far off.

"That was so yummy!" Ryuto exclaimed, drawing Oliver's eyes back toward him, as he gave another bubbling giggle, "We haven't had so much food in such a long time! You should go to your secret storeroom more Oliver!"

"I already told you that I can't go all the time; all the kids on the street have to share the storeroom and it wouldn't be right for me to take all the food for ourselves. Besides, we've got enough food now to last us at least another two days." To prove his point, Oliver gestured towards the pile of food he had just finished stashing away.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Ryuto said as he rolled on his side to look at Oliver, "But I just like it better when we have food; it reminds me of when mommy would cook for me."

Oliver felt himself instinctively stiffen at the mention of Ryuto's mother. An unspoken rule amongst the children of the street was that they would never bring up their parents. Talking about parents did nothing more than open old wounds that were better left closed. Fond memories didn't help you survive.

Thievery and lying did.

"She was so nice," Ryuto mumbled dreamily to himself as he continued to chatter on oblivious to Oliver's edginess, "She was the one who gave me my name you know. Daddy says she comes from some faraway country. When she left daddy said it was because she didn't want to be away from home any more. But daddy was so sad, so he went to find her and I have to be a good boy and wait for him to come back with her…I know he'll find her…then she can cook yummy food…for me and daddy…every…night…"

Ryuto's voice dropped off into silence as the strong allure of sleep and dreams finally claimed his young body. For a moment, Oliver remained crouched near the place where he had stocked their newly acquired supplies. The suffocating nature of the young boy's words hung heavy in the room as Oliver stared darkly down at the food he had stolen mere hours before. Without a word, Oliver hoisted himself off the ground and walked over to the young boy's bed. Ryuto's head was nestled in the crook of his arm as his mouth moved, forming words that were never voiced.

_Even when he's asleep, he never stops talking,_ Oliver thought with a slight smile as he pulled a blanket over the young boy's sleeping form and gently tucked him in. The movement caused the young boy to turn in his sleep as he settled into the warmth of the blanket.

"Thanks mommy…" He mumbled barely above a whisper.

_"Oliver! Stop squirming around so much! Mommy can't tuck you in if you're moving everywhere."_

Before he had a chance to stop it, the memory of her warm voice and easy laughter returned to his mind. Oliver once more felt a painful feeling of powerlessness settle over him. It was choking him.

He had to get away; had to escape.

Moving quickly, close to the point of running, the boy headed for the front door of their current home. He powerfully yanked the door open as if spending one moment longer in the building would bring him physical pain. He was met with a blast of cold air that seemed to permeate every inch of his skin.

Out in the open night air with no one but the stars to keep him company, he began to feel instantly better. He took in deep, gasping breaths of the stark air and allowed its cold indifference to burn away his dark emotions. For a singular moment, he felt completely clear of responsibility; clear of debilitating helplessness. Instead of being Oliver; a ten year old boy charged with the impossible task of protecting two children he cared for like siblings, he was Oliver, a young boy with a loving family and no responsibilities.

Then the moment ended.

Responsibility settled once more like a heavy mantle on his shoulders. He had to care for both Ryuto and Yuki on his own; none of their parents would be coming back, no matter what the young boy thought. He was the only one that could provide for them; their only hope.

The other facts of his reality came back quickly as another strong gust of wind hit him and tore through the last remnants of the fantasy his mind had conjured. Suddenly and inexplicably exhausted, he plopped to the ground and pulled his arms around himself in an attempt to maintain body heat as his mind floated once more to the church and the warm jacket that hung unused.

"I should have moved just a little bit faster to get it…" He mumbled to himself. Even though the night air was biting and caused his cheeks to burn, he wasn't ready to head back inside just yet.

As he sat staring up at the brilliant and cold stars far above him, he allowed his mind to wander until his subconscious settled on the conversation between the two women that he had overheard in the kitchen. He wasn't quite sure why his mind latched on to that conversation in particular. Perhaps it was because it had involved boys his own age.

_"They may be young professionals, but they're still just ten year old boys…_ _have you heard their voices? They sound like little angels!..."_

_"'Their voices?'"_ Oliver thought to himself, _"So they…sing for a living?"_

He hummed a singular tone before he cut himself off. The heavy silence of the night settled once more and Oliver felt the desire, almost need, to interrupt the silence. Before he really had time to think it over, he pulled up an old memory from the recesses of his mind and heard the notes of a familiar melody begin to play. His small voice began to fill the night with the frail melody. As he reached the chorus of the song, he cut himself off prematurely.

He had been singing his mother's lullaby.

He fell back into silence as his thoughts and mood soured once more.

A soft sound broke through the silence.

Oliver recognized it instantly.

A footstep; a singular footstep. Oliver strained his ears as he heard the sound of several more footsteps. The owner of the footsteps was advancing slowly towards where Oliver was sitting.

Instantly on full alert, he tightened his muscles and methodically worked himself into a crouching pose with his small fists balled in front of him. With a small exhale to calm his mounting nerves, he turned quickly, fully prepared to take on any unknown assailant. When he saw large, brown eyes staring back at him he allowed his muscles to relax once more.

"Oh Yuki," Oliver said as he sat down once more with his back against the building, "It's just you. You should warn me next time. I was just about ready to attack you."

He knew it was pointless to tell her to warn him; the little girl never spoke. Oliver wasn't quite sure weather is was because she chose not to or because she couldn't. He assumed the later only because, at least in his mind, if you knew someone for over half a year and they still hadn't spoken a word, it meant they couldn't.

_Though I guess Ryuto does enough talking for the both of them,_ Oliver thought subconsciously as he scooted over slightly and patted a spot next to him. Needing no more encouragement, the young girl scampered to where Oliver was indicating and took her seat.

"So what are you doing up?" Oliver said as he turned to look at the girl. She stared up at him and her eyes seemed to say _'I could ask you the same question.'_ At least that's what he read there and Oliver liked to believe that after knowing Yuki for as long as he had, he had at least some idea what she was feeling even if she couldn't or wouldn't speak.

"Fair enough," He responded with a slight smile, "But if I tell you why I'm up you've got to tell me why you're up, deal?"

The girl responded with a bob of her head.

"I'm out here looking for a shooting star."

The look on her face informed her that she didn't believe him in the least.

"No I'm serious. You know how they say wishing on shooting stars makes your wish come true? Well, I think we could use a wish right now. I mean we have food for now, but with winter coming things are only going to get more difficult."

The lie came easily to him. He found the more he did it the easier it was.

He could tell the little girl was still suspicious of his true intentions but, not willing to miss the chance to make a wish, she looked up to the heavens and allowed her eyes to scan for a shooting star. She looked for several seconds before she looked down with clear disappointment on her face.

"Couldn't find one, could you?"

Yuki shook her head sadly.

"Don't worry about it," He said as he lovingly reached out and ruffled her hair, "We'll just have to be on the lookout for one every night from now on."

The young girl's face lit up considerably as she turned toward Oliver and nodded her head. His lie had worked for now; he could continue to hide away his fear and insecurities.

"Alright then, now that I told you why I'm out here, it's your turn."

When he saw how quickly Yuki's smile fell, he knew he had said the wrong thing.

"Is something wrong?" He asked as he evaluated the young girl's face. But despite the dark look on her face, any indication of what was causing her discomfort had been carefully hidden away.

Yuki gave no response as she pulled her knees to her chest and stared at her feet. As he looked at her, he realized just how thin her dress was and the fact that she wasn't wearing shoes. She must have been as cold as he was.

"Come on Yuki, let's head back inside. It's too cold out here."

The girl gave a vehement shake of her head. Obviously she didn't want to go back inside yet.

"…Did what Ryuto say bother you?" Oliver ventured. There was a moment of hesitation before Yuki gave another shake of her head. For Oliver that was answer enough. She hadn't been sleeping when Ryuto was speaking; she had been listening.

Due to Ryuto's innocent ramblings, he had brought forth demons of the past for both Yuki and Oliver. If it was difficult for Oliver to face his past, he couldn't imagine what it was like for Yuki.

Impulsively, Oliver gave Yuki a quick hug. He felt the little girl stiffen at his touch at first before she warmly returned his hug with one of her own. They stayed locked in their hug for a moment before Oliver broke it off and gave a slight smile.

"We really should be getting back inside," Oliver said in what he hopped was a comforting voice, "It's not going to do any good for us to both get sick."

The young girl hesitated for a moment before she stood up and headed back into the drafty building to try and get some sleep. Oliver followed after her, but paused in the doorway and looked out once more into the starry night sky.

"Wishes, huh…" He mumbled under his breath before he headed into the building and closed the door behind him, shutting out both the darkness of the night and light of the stars.

* * *

><p>"It's snowing, it's snowing, it's snowing!"<p>

Oliver opened his eyes to the sound of a young voice calling to the heavens and the weak morning light streaming through the window.

"Oliver wake up! Yuki wake up! It's snowing outside!"

"It snows every winter," Oliver mumbled as he tried to settle down once more in both the warmth of his blankets and his dreams.

Of course Ryuto wouldn't have any of that. He ran around the small building yelling for both Yuki and Oliver to wake up and exclaiming every possible praise he could think of for the snow. With grudging respect for Ryuto's complete disregard of other people's sleep, Oliver rolled himself out of bed to find both Ryuto and Yuki pulling back the curtain on one of their makeshift windows and looking outside.

"Just look at it come down!" Ryuto exclaimed as he gestured outside, "We're going to make snow angels and build a snowman and build forts and have a snowball fight and, and…" Ryuto finally gave into to the need to breathe as he cut off his excited chattering. Yuki had been nodding her head in agreement with everything Ryuto said and her eyes glittered just as much as his.

"I don't know about the two little kids by the window," Oliver said as he finally got himself out of bed, "But I think I'm gonna have some breakfast."

At the mention of food, the two kids in question looked at one another before quickly scampering to where Oliver was begging to pull food from their stash. Even as he continued to stuff his face with food, Ryuto happily chattered about everything the trio would do for their day in the snow.

Oliver listened for a few minutes before he gave a sigh of resignation; it was now time for him to ruin all their fun.

"You two know that you can't go outside to play," Oliver interjected when Ryuto paused for a breath.

Both set of eyes turned instantly to look at him with utter shock and horror. It was as if Oliver had just told them the world was going to end.

"But why!" Ryuto whined the moment he recovered from his shock.

_Because the number of soldiers has been steadily increasing; they need only the flimsiest excuse to haul in a child off the streets. Besides, news of the Child Sweepers has been unusually quiet recently and that bothers me._

All these ideas flashed through Oliver's mind, but all he said a loud was, "You guys don't have any shoes or coats. I don't want either of you to get sick; we don't have money for medicine."

_No need to worry them._

"Yeah, but…" Ryuto trailed off in disappointment as he tried to come up with a reason why they should be allowed outside, "…But what if we only go outside for a little bit? Then we're not gonna get sick 'cause we'll only be outside for a little bit!"

"It doesn't matter how long you're outside, you could still get sick."

"But Oliver-"

"No more 'buts' Ryuto!" Oliver nearly yelled as his patience reached its end. The second the words were out of his mouth, he instantly regretted them. At the sound of his raised voice, both Ryuto and Yuki shrunk back from him and scooted slightly closer to one another.

"Ryuto, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell-"

Oliver stopped his apology abruptly as Ryuto stood up with his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. He refused to meet Oliver's eyes as the world around the trio seemed to stand still. Without a word, Ryuto ran away from Oliver and scampered up a ladder to one of the lofts in the building.

It was only when the young boy was alone could Oliver hear the sound of him crying quietly to himself.

He took one tentative step towards the loft before he felt a small hand tugging on his sleeve. When he turned to look at Yuki, she was looking up at him with her large eyes and giving a soft shake of her head. Her message delivered, she climbed up the ladder Ryuto had just ascended. Oliver watched her until she disappeared over the edge.

Oliver felt even more helpless than he had the night before. He knew that once more he had to get out of the building. The soft sound of crying and the knowledge that he had been the one to make the boy cry was ripping him apart.

Moving as silently as possible, he headed out the door and on to the now snow covered street. Oliver shivered slightly and hugged his arms to himself as he began his aimless wandering. He wanted desperately for the cold to dispel the dark emotions like it had the night before, but no matter how many deep breaths he took, the cloud of what he had just done hung heavy over him.

_I shouldn't have yelled; I shouldn't have lied,_ Oliver thought as his feet continued to carry him to place unknown _I should have just told him why I didn't want him to go outside. I know he's only five but he deserves to know…_

Truth doesn't help; lying does.

It had become his credo; his motto. When he first started living one the streets, he had learned early on that the world had no mercy for honest people. Life was much simpler when someone simply lied their way through.

Of course, things got a lot more complicated when the people you were lying to were your friends.

Oliver gave a vicious shake of his head to try to get rid of his dark thoughts as he looked up from the street for the first time. He felt his eyes spread slightly in surprise when he saw where his feet had lead him.

He was outside the church he had stolen from the night before.

As he looked at the small, inconspicuous building, a smile spread across Oliver's face as a wonderful idea dawned on him.

Maybe the kids would be able to play outside today after all.

His mind instantly made up, he walked quickly towards the building and around the back where he had found the window open the other night. He found, to his infinite delight, that the window was still hanging open even as the snow continued to fall about him.

"Thanks for being overly trusting," He muttered under his breath as he gave a repeat performance of his entrance the other night.

As soon as his feet touched down, he began to move busily about the room looking for clothing and shoes that would fit both children. He knew he couldn't be picky, but since he had the opportunity to get them some real, warm clothes, he wanted to make sure they got the best.

But as he continued to look for clothing for them, his eyes couldn't help but wander over to where the coat that he had tried to steal last night hung. It remained untouched, the two buttons he had managed to get open still hanging open. The thought that they hadn't even noticed his attempt to steal such an expensive looking coat filled him with equal amounts of comfort and anger.

Momentarily abandoning his search for clothing for the younger two, he headed over to the cabinet and finished the work that he had started the night before. With one more quiet snap, the last button came undone and Oliver felt a distinct feeling of triumph as he pulled the coat down from the hook. For a moment, all he could do was marvel at the coat; now that it was in his hands, it felt even more important and expensive.

Shaking off his wonder for the moment, he flung the coat over his shoulder and resumed his search. He lost all sense of time and the world around him as he hunted feverishly for clothing that would fit the children. When he finally found things he generally believed would work, he took the small bundle of clothing into his arms as his awareness of the world returned to him.

He felt his heart stop in his chest.

There were voices and footsteps just outside the door. He knew instantly that he wouldn't have time to escape through the window. Fighting rising panic, he looked furtively around the room for any other means of escape.

He found his salvation in the form of a door set in the back of the room. Not taking the time and risk of second guessing himself, he yanked open the door and entered into the other room. As he closed the door behind him, he put his ear to the door to listen to the voices on the other side and wait for their departure.

_I just have to wait till they leave and then I can sneak out the window li-_

"And just who exactly are you?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** As a general rule of thumb, this story will update on Thursday evenings/Friday mornings. But I'm not making any promises. Anyways, hope you enjoyed.


	3. Chapter 3

Oliver felt his stomach drop at the sound of a voice behind him. It took every ounce of control he had for him to turn around in a composed manner and face the individual that had found him sneaking around. When he saw the man that had discovered him, he nearly dropped the pile of clothing he was still holding.

The man was tall; incredibly tall. Oliver couldn't help but feel dwarfed by this giant of a man who was staring down at him with suspicion clear on his face. His harsh brown eyes and slicked back brown hair didn't give Oliver any form of comfort either. As he continued to stare, Oliver tried to will his voice to work, but in the face of the man disapproval, excuses seemed impossible to produce.

"Well? Who exactly are you?" The man repeated in a deep booming voice that seemed to shake Oliver to his very core.

"Who are you talking to over there Al?"

A softer, feminine voice broke the tension as Oliver turned his head to look at this new, and somehow oddly welcome, intruder. He saw a woman with blonde hair that fell in ringlets around her shoulders walking towards them with a puzzled look on her face. As she got closer, Oliver could see that she wore several expensive jewelry pieces that clanked against one another slightly as she walked. Oliver instantly decided that she was far less dangerous looking than the man.

"I'm talking to this kid," The man, who Oliver had learned was named Al, responded as he gestured in Oliver's general direction.

"Oh, how did you get in here?" The woman asked as she approached Oliver. She was smiling, but he wasn't quite ready to trust her yet. When she reached where Oliver was standing, she knelt down so the two of them were at eye level before she continued speaking.

"Are you with the choir? You're wearing one of their uniforms so you must be."

Oliver gave no response. Instead he searched the woman's large blue eyes in the same way he could tell she was searching his golden one's. He couldn't help but wonder what she found within his eyes.

"Do you…not understand me?" She said after, Oliver assumed, she had finished her searching, "Well, my mastery of your language isn't perfect, but let's see…." The woman than proceeded to spew out a string of sounds that only caused Oliver to stare at her blankly in confusion.

"No good?" She said, switching back to a language Oliver could understand, "That's too bad. I thought if we could talk to you we could figure out where you need to go. Oh, I know!" She said as she stood up to her fell height, "We'll just talk with the choir master."

Oliver had no idea who this "choir master" was, but he gathered from the conversation that if he was called, he would be quickly found out.

"Please don't call him!" He blurted out before he really gave himself time to lay out any sort of cohesive plan.

Both the man and woman froze and turned to look at him. Oliver felt his tongue die in his throat as the two of them stared at him. The woman gave a slight frown as she placed her hands on her hips.

"So you could understand me this entire time," She said as her frown deepened slightly, "Why didn't you say so before?"

"I…I was just nervous. I didn't want to mess up your language," Oliver lied easily as he regained his voice. If he was lucky enough, the woman would believe him.

"Well if what you just said is any indication you don't have anything to worry about. I couldn't even sense a hint of an accent; it's almost as good as a native speaker," The woman said as her face once more broke into a gentle smile.

"Thank you very much."

"But now that I know you can understand me, I do have one question. Why exactly are you carrying around a pile of clothing?" She punctuated her question by indicating the clothing Oliver still held tightly to his chest.

Oliver's mind flew into a panic. What was the right answer? What answer would keep him safe so he could get back to Yuki and Ryuto?

"I was just-"

"He was obviously stealing them."

Oliver felt all color rush from his face as he turned once more to look at the tall man who was still staring at him. His exact expression was impossible to read, but Oliver didn't glean any measure of comfort from the impassive, stone like face.

"…Is that true?" The woman asked as she searched Oliver's face, "Did you steal those clothes?"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Oliver instinctively sprang away from the door at the sharp sound of knocking behind his back. He dropped the clothes he was carrying and crouched into a defensive position. He had been saved from answering the accusations that he had been stealing, but Oliver knew he was far from safe at this point.

"Excuse me, Mr. Al, Miss. Ann," A voice called from the other side of the door, "Are you in there? The pastor would like to speak with you about your performance tonight at the Christmas Eve service."

Oliver could feel the eyes of both Al and the woman, who was apparently named Ann, fixated on him. He knew the same thought was running through both of their heads.

What were they to do with the little boy that had stolen from the church?

The silence hung heavy as all three waited for someone else to make the first move. After a few seconds more, Oliver watched as Al caught Ann's eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head which Ann returned without hesitation.

_What are they planning?_ Oliver thought worriedly as his golden eyes flickered from one person to the other.

Without a word or gesture more from either Al or Ann, Al headed towards the door and Oliver felt himself tense in response. He was going to turn him in; he was going to ruin everything and Ryuto and Yuki would be forced to fend for themselves.

_I'm not going to let that happen,_ Oliver thought as he gritted his teeth and as he crouched down slightly and prepared himself to fight with everything he had.

But to Oliver's surprise, instead of opening the door widely and ushering the person into the room, Al opened the door only the tiniest crack.

"Yes?" He asked of the figure on the other side of the door.

"Oh, you are in here," A young, almost squeaky voice answered from the other side of the door, "Uhm…Well, a-as I said, the pastor would like to speak to you about the program for tonight's Christmas Eve service."

"Very well, tell him that once we are done here, we will speak with him."

"B-But! He said that it was very important and that it takes precedent over everything else!"

"Inform him that we have other critically important matters to tend to and we send our apologies that we won't be able to meet with him presently."

"B-B-But!-"

Without waiting to hear the rest of the person's argument, Al quietly closed the door behind him. For a moment, all Oliver could do was stare in disbelief. It was almost as if the two of them had protected him.

CLICK

With sickening realization, Oliver heard the sound of the door locking.

He was trapped.

He watched with growing apprehension as Al leaned against the wall near the door and met Oliver's eyes. With stark clarity, Oliver knew that they hadn't truly saved him; they just wanted to do away with him themselves.

_Let them try,_ Oliver thought darkly as he crouched even closer to the ground and balled his small hands into fists.

"Now then, we need to talk to you a little bit," Ann said as she took a few slow but confident steps toward Oliver. With each step she took towards him, Oliver stepped further back; he knew this couldn't last for long; he was going to run into a wall soon and as a result a dead end.

"No one will disturb us here," Al provided from his place near the door, "These are rooms made specifically to practice music; their practically soundproof."

For the first time, Oliver quickly scanned the room his was in. He discerned instantly that there was no hope of escape for him. There were no windows in the room and the only door was currently being guarded by Al. Oliver had some confidence in his skills, but he could tell just by looking at the mountain of a man that he would have no chance in a fight.

"There's no need to look so frightened, we're not going to hurt you."

Oliver's mind was momentarily pulled from the idea of escape by the sound of the young woman's voice. He had almost forgotten about her; he needed to keep in mind that he was dealing with two assailants here. As he turned himself slightly so he would be in the best position to fight both should they attack at the same time, he felt his eyes go wide in surprise.

The woman was smiling gently and holding the pile of clothing Oliver had dropped. But that wasn't what was so surprising. No, she was doing something far more abnormal than holding a pile of clothing.

She was holding the pile of clothing towards Oliver and waiting for him to take it from her hands.

"Are you just going to sit there all day and stare at me like that?" She asked with a lyrical laugh, "My arms are getting a little bit tired from holding all this clothes; maybe you should keep them for me?"

Not even waiting for his response, she shoved the clothing into Oliver's hands. At first, Oliver was too surprised to react. But surprise quickly gave way to instincts as he snatched up the clothes.

"Ah, now we're a little grabby are we?" Ann said with another laugh.

"…Why are you doing this? What's the catch?" Oliver asked, suddenly suspicious. He gripped the clothes tighter in his hands; now that he had them back, he wasn't going to give them up for anything.

"There's no catch," Ann replied with her smile still plastered on her face, "You look like you need the clothes so I'm giving it to you."

"That…doesn't make sense; you know I stole them." Oliver had no idea why he was arguing this point. Everything was working out to his advantage; if he was smart, he should have counted his blessings and shut his mouth until they let him leave. Yet despite his reasoning for why he should remain silent, it was just too unfathomable for him. No one ever showed this level of charity, especially to a thief.

"Sometimes things adults do doesn't have to make sense," Ann replied.

"They always have a reason for what they do," Oliver replied flatly. He had lived long enough on the street to know that adults didn't just hand out clothes or food.

"Then perhaps you don't know all adults…Mr…"

"Why should I tell you my name?"

"Well if you don't I suppose I'll just have to refer to you as 'thief boy'."

Oliver felt his fury boil within him. She was making fun of him; he just _knew_ she was making fun of him. But instead of snapping at her, he kept his mouth firmly shut; he had said too much already.

"Ann," Al broke in for the first time since the conversation had started. Both Ann and Oliver turned to look at this unexpected and abrupt addition to the conversation. "We have to go talk with the pastor soon; he's not a man who likes to be kept waiting."

"Alright," Ann said as she looked away from Oliver for an instance, "Then we need to work fast and get you out of here. Just follow my lead and try to make it look natural, alright?"

"What are you-"

Before he had a chance to protest or even react, Ann grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards the door. After his initial surprise died down, Oliver tried his best to wiggle his way out of her grasp, but the iron grip the woman maintained informed him that he wouldn't be getting free anytime soon.

Without pausing in her strides even the slightest, Ann walked past Al and opened the door, dragging Oliver along with her. Oliver felt his throat constrict; after all that talk of not hurting him and giving him the clothes, she was going to turn him in anyways!

He looked frantically about the room only to find two women staring at both him and Ann. He instantly recognized the women as the ones he had seen in the kitchen the other day.

"O-Oh, Miss. Ann!" The stockier woman said as her eyes took in the scene before her, "The pastor was lookin' for you."

"I heard, thank you for letting me know."

"Miss. Ann…is that one of the choir boys you got with you there?" The other woman asked.

"Why yes he is," Ann said with a light laugh, "I'm just having him help me with a few chores. You don't think the choir master will mind, do you?"

"Well, I…can't rightly say ma'am…"

"Honestly, I really don't want to get in trouble. Do you think that we could keep this little fact between us three ladies?"

"O-Of course ma'am, but…what should I tell the pastor if he comes lookin' for you?"

"Just tell him I'm walking around town to look for some inspiration," Ann answered without the slightest pause. As much as Oliver hated giving her any credit, the woman's ability to lie through her teeth was rather impressive.

"I-I believe we can handle that ma'am," The stockier woman replied, followed by a clumsy and hasty curtsey. Oliver tried his best to make his face remain impassive and play along as the little choir boy that couldn't understand their language, but he felt his eyebrows rise slightly at the display he had just witnessed. Who was this woman that people were willing to call her ma'am and curtsey to her?

"Then we'll be on our way. It was pleasant talking with you ladies," Ann said with a carefree wave of her hand as she continued to drag Oliver along with her. Oliver, for his part, kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground and his one free hand held the clothes tightly to his chest. Each time a person passed, Oliver tried his best to hide away his face, but no one gave the young choir boy a second glance.

Within a matter minutes, the woman dragging him along opened a door and Oliver could tell that compared to the cramped hallways they had been wandering through, the room they had just entered was much larger. He couldn't help himself; as curiosity took hold, Oliver lifted his eyes from the floor.

He felt his breath escape in wonder.

The woman had lead him into a sanctuary that seemed far too large for the small building it was contained in. The ceiling rose high into the air and gracefully arched above Oliver's head. A stained glass window scattered shards of colored light about the room that seemed to dance in the harsh afternoon sun.

But what really caught Oliver's attention was the large instrument at the front of the room.

It was a huge pipe organ. The pipes wove in and out of one another in a dizzying and intricate dance that Oliver quickly lost the steps to. The bright, silver pipes of varying length and width all gleamed dully in the colored light of the stained glass window, but even from this distance, Oliver could see the intricate carvings adorning the pipes.

It was one of the most entrancing things Oliver had ever seen.

A light giggle broke the spell as Oliver re-realized where he was and the fact that an odd woman was currently gripping his wrist. When he turned to look at her, she was smiling with a gleam in her eyes that was already becoming familiar to Oliver.

"I had the exact same reaction when I saw it for the first time. It's no wonder this church is hosting a world famous boys' choir, huh?"

All Oliver could do was nod dumbly in agreement.

"I hate to ruin the moment," He heard Ann say as she gave him a slight tug on his wrist, "But people are going to start getting suspicious if you keep standing there with that pile of clothes in your hand."

Brought back to reality once more, Oliver gave a decisive nod of his head. He had the clothes; now it was time to get out and give it to Ryuto and Yuki.

Without a word further, Ann continued on her journey, dragging Oliver behind her. As he continued his forced march, Oliver mentally chastised himself; he had allowed his guard to drop for one moment when he had been staring at that pipe organ. It was a mistake that could have proved deadly. As he continued to follow Ann, he silently sore to himself that he wouldn't allow himself to be used again.

Just as he reached this resolution, Ann released his wrist and turned to face him.

"Alright, I helped you out that once, but I don't want you going to that church to steal ever again," She said with a serious look in her eyes. Oliver nodded his head the slightest bit in response.

"Now you've gone and stopped talking on me," Ann said with another of her ringing, easy laughs, "I still don't know your name you know."

"You don't need to know," Oliver answered shortly.

"Fine, fine, I won't push for an answer I know I'm never going to get. By the way, I'm guessing that by the way you looked at that organ, you're a fan of music, right? Well as you heard, Al and I are performing for the church's Christmas Eve service tonight, you should come."

Once more Oliver didn't speak, he didn't even nod his head; he just stared at Ann with blank eyes.

"Well…" Ann contended with a slight sigh, "I'm not sure if that's a yes or no, but I'll be on the lookout for you. I hope to see you tonight thief boy."

With a slight wave of her hand and another smile, Ann turned around and headed back in the direction of the church. She had retreat no more than a few steps before Oliver reached out his hand and grabbed the woman's wrist. He felt her stiffen under his touch, but she turned around to face him. She was smiling, but Oliver could tell that her smile was tinted with the slightest bit of doubt and worry.

"Oliver…" He finally said after a moment longer of holding her wrist.

At that word, all the doubts and concerns cleared from Ann's face and her smile was sincere once more.

"Oliver? It's a good name."

This time, Oliver nodded his head in response and gave a slight, awkward smile. This only caused Ann's smile on her face to spread to almost comical lengths as she nodded her head and gently removed her wrist from Oliver's grasp before she headed back towards the church without a look back.

Oliver watched her go until she disappeared into the sanctuary of the church. It was only when she was out of sight did he allow himself to look down at the hand with which he had grabbed her wrist.

The dull gleam of a pearl bracelet greeted him.

It had been so easy to take off her wrist.

"…The church types are always so overly trusting," He said with a grim smile as he quickly stuffed the bracelet into one of the pockets of his newly obtained jacket. As he walked away with his pile of clothes tucked under one arm, he whistled a small tune to himself to celebrate his triumph.

He knew of a few pawn shops that wouldn't ask any questions…


	4. Chapter 4

DING-A-LING

The happy tingling of the bell was in sharp contrast to Oliver's sour mood. He had managed to find a pawnshop that was willing to trade for the bracelet, no questions asked, but the owner was willing to pay much less than he had hoped for. After one too many failed attempts at haggling that only resulted in a threat to throw him out into the street, he eventually conceded to the original price the greasy merchant had proposed.

With the sun setting at his back, Oliver wandered through the streets with the bundle of clothing held to his chest. He couldn't help but continue to glance down at the clothing in an attempt to allay his irrational fear that they were going to disappear at any moment. But he found the more that he stared at the clothes, the more difficult it became to push away the emotion that was bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.

It was guilt; bitter and burning guilt.

Try as he might, all he could see when he looked at the clothing was the smiling, overly-trusting face of Ann. She was the one that had allowed him to escape with the clothing; she could have easily turned him in to face whatever punishment was deemed fit for a child that stole from a church. But instead, she had helped him for no reason that Oliver could discern.

…_you're a fan of music, right? Well as you heard, Al and I are performing for the church's Christmas Eve service tonight, you should come._

Unbidden, Ann's words returned to his mind and Oliver felt a burning desire to take her up on her offer. Seeing the towering organ had stirred his latent love of music. It felt somewhere deep inside he was obligated to go see the show tonight.

Quickly pushing the thoughts away, Oliver once more buried his love and desire for music. But with his mind now cleared, his thoughts settled on another topic he tried to avoid as much as possible; all the people he had stolen from.

He had stolen before, he had stolen from many people before, he had stolen from people who were in more desperate situations than Ann and those that we more disgustingly trusting. But somehow, stealing from her and feeling the bulk of the money is his pocket bang lightly against his leg, he couldn't help but feel guilt trill through him.

With a growl of frustration and a furious shake of his head, Oliver did his best to shake off both the lingering feelings and memories, but the specter continued to hover at the corner of his thoughts. He quickened his steps in order to reach the dilapidated building he called home. He hopped that by reaching home, he would be able to focus on other things.

_ Like finding the right way to apologize for losing my temper this morning…_ Oliver thought bitterly as he finally arrived in the back alley that housed the dilapidated building. With a heavy heart, he walked down the small, winding path that lead to the front door and gave a soft rap on the front door.

There was a moment of heavy silence as Oliver shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He wanted the door to open, but he dreaded it at the same time; he had never been particularly good at making apologies.

"…What's the password?"

The voice was so quiet that Oliver wasn't sure at first that it existed at all, but he replied all the same.

"This is the home of Yuki, Ryuto and Oliver. No one else is allowed in," Oliver replied under his breath. Every time he spoke the password, he couldn't help but feel both childish and silly, but there was no way he could ask to change it. Ryuto and Yuki had spent three days dreaming up what they thought would be the perfect password.

Oliver's moment of nostalgia was broken by the sound of the door creaking open slowly. As Oliver stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him, he became aware of the small presence that stood not far off. When he turned to look, Ryuto was staring intently at his foot that he was grinding into the floor.

"I remembered to ask for the password this time…" He said quietly as he refused to raise his eyes to meet Oliver's.

"And I'm proud of you for that," Oliver responded in what he hopped was a gentle tone. As he turned away from the young boy, he set down the pile of clothing he had in his hands and did his best to hide it away to ensure that the clothing would be a surprise for the young boy. The clothes hidden as best as he could manage, he walked over to where the young boy stood.

"You're…not still angry at me?" Ryuto asked as he lifted his eyes for a brief moment to look at Oliver before he once more turned his attention back to the spot of earth he was systematically destroying with his foot.

With a mild sigh of bemusement, Oliver set the bundle of clothing on the floor and headed towards Ryuto. He could feel the young boy stiffen as his body went deathly still. Oliver smiled gently as he lightly ruffled the boy's hair and knelt down so that he was on eye level with the young boy.

"I'm not mad, I was never mad," He began as he waited for the Ryuto to raise his green eyes to meet his golden ones. After a few moments of deliberate aversion of his sight, Ryuto gave in and raised his eyes to meet Oliver's. Oliver felt a stab of guilt shake his core; the young boy's eyes were red and bloodshot from having cried and there were fresh tears at the corner threatening to spill at any moment.

"I'm not mad," Oliver repeated deliberately, "In fact, I should apologize for yelling at you. I was just worried. But even so, that doesn't excuse me for yelling at you. I'm really sorry."

The two of them stood there locked in silence for a moment. Oliver could only hope that his apology was accepted; he knew that there was no reason for him to lose his temper and he honestly couldn't blame Ryuto if he didn't forgive him.

As the two of them continued to stand there, the silence was broken by a chocked sob.

Oliver felt guilt course through every inch of his body.

Ryuto was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Y-You were really scary," He managed between gulping gasps of air, "I-I-I don't like it when y-you y-y-yell."

"I know, I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry."

"I-I'm sorry too. I-I shouldn't have talked like that. I know it's dangerous b-b-but…I-I just want us to go do f-fun stuff together; l-like a real f-fami-l-ly."

The young boy's sentence ended in tears and a low wail as he finally gave in completely to the choking lump in his throat. Oliver gently pulled the young boy into his arms, which only caused the child's sobs to grow louder as he clung desperately to Oliver's coat and cried into his shoulder.

_He's just a child…he just wants a family…_ Oliver thought as the boy's sobs filled the hollow cavern of their home and his small body shook violently in Oliver's embrace.

The two of them remained in this position until Ryuto's sobs died down and he detangled himself from Oliver's arms. He once more looked down at the ground, but this time his eyes were colored with guilt.

"I shouldn't have cried like that…" He said quietly as his voice continued to waver in memory of the tears he had just shed, "I have to be strong like daddy said…"

"No, sometimes it's alright to cry. I'm sure your daddy understands that. But Ryuto, what I want you to know is that we're a family, no matter what," Oliver said softly as he once more ruffled the young boy's hair. The young boy lifted his eyes, not quite believing what Oliver was saying to be the truth.

"I'm not lying you know. We're a family; I'm the big brother that has to watch out for his little brother and little sister."

As he said those words, Oliver realized for the first time how true they were. They may not have been a family in the traditional sense, but he would protect both Yuki and Ryuto with his life; he would go to any lengths to make sure that they were happy.

And for him, that made them family enough.

"…You're the big brother?" Ryuto echoed, pulling Oliver from his thoughts. Oliver responded with a nod.

"Yup."

"You're the big brother…and we're a family…" Ryuto mumbled, almost as if to himself.

"And because of that, sometimes I'm going to do stupid things that you're going to have to forgive me for. So, do you forgive me?"

"O-Of course I do! I could never stay mad at you!" The young boy practically yelled.

"I'm glad to hear that," Oliver said with a light chuckle, "But now that we've apologized, I think it's time for you to be getting off to bed. You do know what tonight is, right?"

"Tonight?" Ryuto echoed as he looked at Oliver in confusion.

"Yeah, it's Christmas Eve. And this year, I bet you that St. Nick isn't just going to pass over us."

"R-Really?" Ryuto asked quietly as hope began to sneak its way into his voice, "Even though he passed over us last year?"

"I guarantee it, you and Yuki have been really good this year so there's no way he would pass you up," Oliver replied with an easy smile, "But, if you're still awake..." Oliver intentionally let his voice trail off.

"I-I'll make sure to go to bed!" Ryuto said with renewed determination in his voice. Oliver couldn't help but smile as the young boy's characteristic glow in his eyes slowly began to return.

"Then you best be heading off to bed; I heard the sleigh bells on St. Nick's sled as I was walking home."

Ryuto gave a quick nod of his head before he scampered off to his corner where his blanket was splayed out. He quickly huddled under the covers and stuck his head out to look at where Oliver still stood; Oliver returned his gaze with a smile. All Ryuto's previous misgivings and tears faded from his eyes as he gave a wide, toothy grin before he quickly buried his face in his blanket.

"Before you head off to bed, do you know where Yuki is?" Oliver asked, realizing for the first time the young girl's absence.

"She went to bed already. She's sleeping in the loft," came the muffled reply from where Ryuto lay.

"Alright, goodnight then."

"Goodnight…big brother."

Oliver felt his eyes spread slightly in surprise at Ryuto's choice of words, but he found himself smiling all the same. 'Big brother', he could get used to the sound of that.

Once he was satisfied that Ryuto wouldn't be emerging from his place under the covers, he quickly turned back to where he had hidden the clothing away. He pulled the clothing out and quickly separated it into an outfit for Yuki and one for Ryuto. Yuki's outfit was a loose fitting red dress that seemed to glow slightly in the weak moonlight and a large, brown coat that would cover her entire thin frame and keep her warm. Ryuto's outfit was a small green jacket with a white undershirt and shorts. Oliver had also grabbed the young boy a blue jacket like the one he was wearing.

But the most important thing was the last thing he grouped with the bundles.

He had managed to obtain a pair of shoes for both of them.

With great reverence, he placed the shoes with the piles of clothing. Satisfied with his work, he stepped back and couldn't help but smile. Not only would Ryuto and Yuki have new clothing, but they would also now be able to play in the snow in their warm winter coats. Just like Ryuto wanted, they would be able to play outside as a family.

All it had taken was a Christmas Eve miracle and "St. Nick" to bring them together as a family.

"Family…" Oliver said quietly to himself. The word never tasted as sweet as it did in that moment. The almost goofy grin that dominated Oliver's face demonstrated just how much joy both the word and the emotions behind it brought him.

Yet as he continued to stand there with his goofy grin, he realized a problem. It was true that he had grabbed shoes for the young kids, but in his haste and fear of being discovered, he had failed to grab shoes for himself. If he didn't have shoes, there was no way he could run around in the snow with Ryuto and Yuki.

He just had to go back.

He wouldn't let Ryuto's wish go unfulfilled.

There was a performance tonight; no one would be paying attention. It was the perfect opportunity. As he prepared to leave, he actively worked to convince himself that he wasn't going back to the church to hear the music; it was to get the shoes.

It was a lie that no matter how much he told himself, he would never be able to fully believe.

With his mind made up, Oliver turned on his heel, looked once more to the sleeping figure of Ryuto and the loft where Yuki was sleeping, and headed out the door into the cold, Christmas Eve night.

* * *

><p>Oliver was astonished by the number of people that had congregated around the church. The group milled about aimlessly as they waited for the church doors to open so they could take their seats to see the Christmas Eve service. Oliver swore gently under his breath; there was no way he was going to get in without being spotted.<p>

But of course he wasn't going to give up that easily.

_I'll just wait till the service is over, then I'll sneak in back, grab the shoes and get out,_ He reasoned as he mulled about with the rest of the group. He quickly put on the mask that would allow him to blend with the crowd; complete hopelessness and submission.

It wasn't long before the doors of the church swung open, ushering the hopeless mob into the glowing warmth. The group moved as a whole and Oliver couldn't help but note how the dark and despondent crowd clashed almost comically with the bright, polished inside of the church. It wasn't long before Oliver was also inside the grand church; another speck of darkness in the light.

He quickly detached himself from the rest of the crowd and found a pew that was situated in the back, close to the door. It may have just been due to the fact that he had conditioned himself through his years of thievery, but he wanted to ensure that he had an immediate escape route.

The tide of people began to stem as a low murmur filled the room. Oliver could taste the excitement in the air, but he had no idea what was going to happen next. He looked about him, searching for whatever was causing the excitement, but the only thing of interest he saw was a stooped woman with brown hair that covered her face, muttering to herself as she patted the seat next to her. She made Oliver feel uneasy and he consciously scooted closer to the end of the pew and further from her. He fidgeted uncomfortably as the minutes dragged on and nothing happened.

Suddenly, a voice, clear and strong, rang through the air.

Oliver felt himself freeze as the one voice lilted up and down in a sweet and clear song. In a few seconds, the singular voice was joined with others until they reach a crescendo of angelic voices ringing through the golden sanctuary of the church. Next, the organ joined in. The room swam with the interplay of the choir and the organ; two elements so completely separate from one another yet reliant upon the other to tell the whole story.

It was unlike anything Oliver had ever experienced. All he could do was sit and allow the music and experience to wash over him. He felt his entire being sway and move with the crescendos and decrescendos of the music; he felt his heart race as the music reached a frantic high point; he felt his entire body relax as both the choir and organ exited and the only thing that remained was the singular, ringing voice. The last notes of the song melted away into the ether and absolute silence filled the sanctuary.

It didn't last long as the audience broke out into thunderous applause; Oliver was too stunned to respond in any way.

This…this was music?

"Thank you for coming to our Christmas Eve service," A voice broke into Oliver's cloud of awe. He turned to see the pastor standing at his pulpit and speaking to his congregation, "We would like to welcome both the world renowned boys' choir and the musical duet of Al and Ann."

Another round of applause broke out as Oliver noticed for the first time both the choir and Ann and Al. Ann was standing in front of the choir in a white gown that reached to the floor and her golden ringlets seemed to glow in the church light. A radiant smile painted her face as she gave a curtsey, acknowledging the applause. Al stood up from his place at the organ. His brown hair was slicked back with a few unruly piece escaping. He was wearing an all-black suit that was in stark contrast to the white dress Ann wore. He gave a deep bow of acknowledgement.

Oliver's eye swept over these details as his eyes settled on the boys' choir. The boys all looked to be close to his age; some even looked a little younger. Oliver realized that they were all wearing the same style of coat that he had wrapped around his shoulders; he could have easily fit in with all the other boys in the choir.

"Thank you for the warm reception," A voice said that Oliver instantly recognized as Ann, "It's an honor that we are able to perform here in a time of such turmoil. We hope that the music will allow you to escape from reality for just a little bit."

"And now," The pastor said, "A reading from the scriptures…"

At this point, Oliver stopped listening as his mind vividly recalled the strains of music he had just heard. He closed his eyes as the wave of memories overtook him and wrapped him in a feeling of warmth and security.

Was this what the boys in the choir felt like every time they sang?

Would it ever be possible for him to be a part of the music?

"Oliver, stop fidgeting around and pay attention to the sermon. If you don't behave St. Nick won't come."

At the sound of his name, Oliver was forcibly pulled from his cocoon of pleasant thoughts as he turned to see who had spoken to him. It was the woman with the brown hair who had been patting the seat next to her.

She had said his name, but she wasn't looking at him. Was she speaking with someone else?

Oliver began to examine the woman in more earnest as he tried to see her face. No matter how long he stared at her, she didn't lift her face from the floor. But in addition, the longer he stared at her, the more a distant memory began to speak at the edge of his mind. Before long, he couldn't stand it any longer; he had to see the woman's face.

"Excuse me," He said quietly so to not disturb the other patrons around him, "Who are you speaking to?"

The woman whipped around suddenly as if a spell had been broken. She turned to stare at Oliver with eyes that seemed to not see him; they were clouded and dull.

But Oliver knew those eyes.

He felt his heart stop in his chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is my son bothering you? You don't look to be much older than him," She said as she patted the seat next to her and looked at the air like one might look at a child, "You're so well behaved; do you think you could teach my son how to not fidget in church?"

She gave a laugh that sounded bright and fairy like in contrast with the dark, toning voice of the pastor reading the Holy Scripture.

Oliver's tongue felt heavy in his throat as he tried to form words. He couldn't; it was impossible. The woman was staring at him with her dead, hollow eyes with a gentle grin on her face.

It was too much.

It hurt so much to look at her.

It hurt to look at her and remember; remember who she once was.

He looked at those eyes, those eyes he once knew, and suddenly he was able to find his voice.

"…Mother?"

He said the word quietly, like it was sacred.

The woman looked up from the empty space next to her. Her eyes locked with Oliver's.

Golden eyes met golden eyes as everything else faded away.


	5. Chapter 5

All he could see was the swirling, clouded, gold of his mother's eyes.

Or rather, what had once been his mother.

He searched; he searched tirelessly. He wanted to find some spark, some tiny trace, that this woman was the mother he once knew. But as their eyes remained locked on one another, Oliver could barely recognize the woman. It was as if death had moved in where life once was.

"Mother?" The woman's voice broke into his thoughts, "Are you lost little boy? Do you want me to help you find your mom?"

The words stung him, almost as if she had reached across and slapped him. It hurt all the more because she was gently smiling at him, waiting for his response. There was no malice in her eyes, no evil intent. She was just a woman who wanted to help a young boy find his home once more and then be on her way.

Those soft, caring eyes made Oliver want to puke.

It wasn't his mother; it _couldn't_ be his mother.

But her face, the way she carried herself, the tone of her voice, everything but those dead eyes looked just like her. He wanted so desperately to push away the reality, but he couldn't; not with her right there next to him yet so far away at the same time.

"It's alright, we'll find her together."

He felt himself stiffen as she spoke once more. Oliver couldn't look at her; he turned and stared intently at his hands, which were tightened into fists and resting on his lap. He wouldn't think about her, he wouldn't think about her, he wouldn't think about her.

"Oliver, stay here like a good boy for a little bit, alright? I'm going to help this boy find his mother."

She was speaking to the empty seat next to her once more. Her voice was as soft and gentle as a mother's lullaby when she spoke to the invisible child next to her. Oliver felt his stomach turn involuntarily once more as he tightened his fists, causing his short, dirty nails to dig into his palms.

He felt the soft pressure of her hand on his shoulder. Acting on an unknown reflex, he slapped her hand away quickly as he stood abruptly and turned to face her. She was looking confusedly up at him as the hand he had slapped away hung uselessly in the air. Her clouded eyes looked confused, hurt, sad.

He wanted to hate her; he wanted to hate her and love her at the same time. She was his mother and yet not his mother.

"Are you scared that I'm going to hurt you?" Came the soft voice of his mother once more, "Don't worry, I promise not to hurt you."

"…You…you can't help me…" Oliver replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"…You can't help me find my mom…"

"Of course I can. If we work together I'm sure we'll be able to find her and get you back home safely. I'll bet that your mother's looking everywhere for you right now."

"…My mom's dead…"

The words were awkward and tasted like ash.

"My mom's dead," he repeated with conviction as he held that clouded gaze, "My mom's dead…"

Saying the words aloud drained him. He fell heavily back onto the pew as he found himself staring once more at the floor. The words he had just said kept replaying over and over in his head. He thought that with each repetition, it would be easier to accept.

He hopped that all the years he had practiced lying would make it easier to accept, less bitter in his mouth.

He was wrong.

With each repetition, he simply wanted to cry, but the heat of the ash in his mouth robbed him of even this small comfort. All he could do was pull his knees to his chest as he stared at his still bare feet. Hot, bitter tears roiled within his stomach, but they never made their way to his face. The world faded away as he became keenly aware of the sound of blood rushing through his body.

He felt like he was drowning in unshed tears.

Then suddenly, warm arms wrapped around him and saved him from his inevitable death. He became dully aware once more of the pastor's voice intoning the Holy Scripture and the gilded cathedral that surrounded him.

But what his every sense was attuned to were the small arms that encircled him.

She began to rub slow, small circle on his back. He remembered the ritual; she used to do it every time he was upset over something. She muttered soft, comforting words that he was never quite able to catch.

This ritual, repeated so many times in his childhood, felt foreign and strange.

"It'll be okay…" He heard her say as she raised her voice above a whisper.

Why was she saying such kind things? He wanted to hate her; she was the one who had stolen his mother away from him.

"Everything will be alright Oliver."

At the sound of his name, he turned to look at her. He felt his heart catch in his throat. Her face was once more that of his mother; her eyes were no longer dull, but instead glowed with the love of life that he had always known her for. She was smiling gently down at the son she once more cradled in her arms.

Then the moment passed.

Her eyes clouded over once more and Oliver watched his mother slipped away from him once more.

Had he imagined it? Had it just been wishful thinking that his mother could still be reached?

The woman slowly released Oliver from her grasp as she smiled gently at him. Oliver could tell that she was waiting for him to say something. He knew she wanted to hear a thank you, but his mind just kept conjuring one phrase over and over again.

"…Please don't touch me again…"

"Oh, I'm sorry I guess I really shouldn't have done that. You just looked so sad and lost; it reminded me of my son."

Oliver wanted to scream; he wanted to yell and insist that he was her son. But instead, he simply stood once more from the pew and turned towards the door.

"Are you leaving? The sermon isn't over yet you know."

"…I can't stay here any longer…" Oliver said quietly as he scanned the gilded cathedral with its grand organ that played achingly beautiful music. He didn't belong.

"Well, I hope you'll come back some day. Oliver and I come every Sunday to hear the sermon."

Oliver gave no vocal response, instead electing to give a simple nod of acknowledgement.

"I hope you'll come..um...oh, I'm sorry but I don't believe I caught your name."

_It's Oliver; I'm your son; I don't want to leave; please stop me._

"…My name is Cody."

"Cody? It's a good name; it fits you perfectly," She said with a nod of her head as if to confirm what she had said, "I hope to see you next Sunday Cody."

It felt surreal to hear his mother call him by a name that wasn't his own. She smiled with as much warmth as any mother would at her son.

Only she wasn't his mother; not any more.

Without another word or a backwards glance, he quickly snuck out the door and away from the picturesque cathedral.

As his feet slapped methodically across the pavement, his thoughts jangled violently against one-another. He saw Ann, her smiling, trusting face; he saw Al, his impassive, stone-like face; he saw the specter of his mother, her kind, clouded eyes. As the rate of his thoughts increased, he found himself running.

The cold, night wind whipped against his face as he tried to think of everything and nothing all at the same time. As his bare feet padded against the cold cobbles beneath him, another thought entered his mind.

He had forgotten to steal the shoes.

When he finally stopped running, his breathing was short and ragged as he gulped in the cold, biting winter air. He could tell that his cheeks were flushed from the exercise, but that only seemed to make him colder as he pulled his arms around himself and looked at the street about him. In his running, he had found his way back to his home.

Or rather, what had once been his home.

His house, like his mother's eyes, had clouded over and was unrecognizable. But he remembered. There was a post near the front of the house that he had painstakingly carved his name into, with the assistance of his father; the soft, warm curtains that his mother would take down and wash every Sunday; the sound of laughter and tears and acceptance and occasional fights.

Once there had been the sound of family; now there was only the silence of the night. All the objects he remembered, all the small, nuanced things that marked this house as his own had been swept away, never to be seen again.

His mother was dead; his family was dead.

He had to remember that.

He fell heavily to the cobbles of the street which caused the fresh, damp snow to soak into his clothing. He stared at the building that was once his home; he thought of the woman that was once his mother; he thought of everything he had lost. He didn't want to move. Some part of his heart hopped that if he sat there long enough, if he could just be a good boy and sit quietly through the entire sermon, his mother might reward him. Perhaps the clouds would clear from her eyes and she would once more clean the curtains as she sang to herself.

He didn't know if that was true, he had never managed the impossible feat of perfect stillness that his mother required from him.

As he stood there staring with dry eyes at the cobblestones beneath him, he knew he would never be able to be the boy his mother wanted him to be. It was just so hard to sit quietly through the entire long sermon.

With each exhale of puffy, white breath into the night air, he felt a small measure of hope escape from his chest. He wondered how long it would take for him to breathe all the hope out.

One puff of breath; a piece of hope gone.

His only measure of time was the breaths that continued to escape him.

Two puffs of breath; two pieces of hope gone.

By the time he reached twenty-five, his chest felt heavy and he felt an overwhelming desire to close his eyes and lie down in the streets. He didn't care who saw him or what they said; he only cared that he would finally be able to rest.

As he laid his head down on the cold, snow-soaked street, he closed his eyes with a final, contented sigh. His head felt light as the dark and inviting realm of dreams began to lay claim to his mind. It felt so good to just stop...

_"Goodnight…big brother."_

The memory returned to him quietly, unexpectedly.

_"Goodnight…big brother."_

This time the voice rang louder and clearer in his mind. His weary mind wanted desperately to push it away.

_It will be so much easier to just lie here_, A voice in his mind whispered enticingly to him, _Let the night claim you; you deserve to rest._

But the memory would not be denied. The words kept playing over and over in his head.

_"Goodnight...big brother."_

Suddenly he remembered everything he had gained since he lost his family. He thought of Ryuto, of Yuki, the two children that meant more to him than his life. He thought of how making the two of them smile and remain safe had almost become an obsession. He thought of just the other day how they had all laughed together as they ate the stolen food from the church. The memories burned through his apathy like a white, cleansing fire.

He knew then; he knew that he couldn't give up.

Slowly, he lifted himself onto his elbows and opened his eyes. He saw the house that was no longer his, but instead of feeling his hope drain away once more, his mind recalled the dilapidated building he had made his new home.

He hauled himself off the ground and stood on wobbly legs once more. He stared at the building for a moment longer before he turned away to make his way back to where Ryuto and Yuki were. As each step closed the distance between them, the hollow feeling in his chest abated slightly.

By the time he reached the street their home was situated on, his chest felt lighter and the hopelessness that had weighed it down before had all but disappeared. He knew he wouldn't be able to forget completely, there would always be that shadow lurking at the edge of his heart. But he also knew that with the help of his new family he would be able to move on. As he looked at his family's home, a small smile found its way on to his features.

The smile quickly withered as he drew closer to the building.

Something was wrong.

The door of the building was standing wide open and blowing gently in a breeze that seemed to come from nowhere. Panic began to set in as he ran towards the building.

"Yuki! Ryuto! Where are you guys!" He yelled as he entered the doorway. He was met with silence. He ran instantly to the spot where Ryuto had fallen asleep earlier. His covers were still there and looked to be mostly undisturbed; there were no signs of a struggle. When he went to go check the loft where Ryuto had told him Yuki was sleeping, he found an almost identical scene.

As he climbed down the ladder, heart hammering in his ears, he swept his eyes about the room in a desperate search for the other two children. What he found made his heart jump. He wasn't sure if it was in hope or despair.

The clothing that he had laid out for Ryuto and Yuki was gone.

It didn't look as if it had been forcibly taken or destroyed; what was once there simply wasn't any longer.

"They have to be here somewhere," Oliver said aloud as he ran out of the building and into the streets.

As he wound through the maze of back alleys that surrounded their home, Oliver called desperately for the other two children. Over and over again he screamed their names. Over and over again he was met with silence. He yelled until his voice was hoarse and yet he would not give up the search.

He had lost his mother; he wasn't going to lose his brother and sister.

He had no idea how long he searched for, it could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but somehow he had ended up back outside their home once more. He was out of breath from both shouting and running, but he set his feet to explore another alley that he had yet to go down.

"Big brother…"

Oliver felt his heart leap into his throat for what must have been the thousandth time that night. He spun around desperately searching for the source of the voice.

"Ryuto? Is that you? Where are you?" Oliver called as his voice escaped in cold puffs.

"I'm…over here," Came the soft reply.

It took Oliver a few second longer for him to realize that the young boy's voice was issuing from a thin alleyway between their home and the building next to it; it was a place that Ryuto had often used as a hiding place when the three of them would play hide-and-seek. Oliver rushed over to where the young boy was laying and took the thin figure in his hands.

The young boy was bundled in the clothing Oliver had stolen from the church. Under normal circumstances, Oliver would have been livid that the young boy had snuck out in the middle of the night when he had repeatedly told him not to. In the very back of his mind, Oliver supposed, he was slightly angry.

But the most prominent emotion in that moment was fear.

The young boy was bleeding profusely from a large laceration on the top of his head. His eyes were half closed in pain and Oliver noticed that his ankle was strewn at an odd angle. The young boy's breathing was shallow as he looked up at Oliver with a mixture of relief, fear and remorse.

"What happened to you? What are you doing out here in the streets in the middle of the night," Oliver questioned as he continued to cradle the young boy.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," The young boy said as Oliver held him to his chest, "I…I saw that you left something out before you left and I was super curious. When I saw it was clothes, I woke up Yuki and we put them on. We were- we were…just gonna go outside for a little bit, but, but-"

"What happened?" Oliver asked with urgency. He could tell that the boy was quickly losing consciousness, but he couldn't let him slip away without a hint as to where he could find Yuki.

"T-The Child Sweepers came. We just opened the door and suddenly they were there. They grabbed Yuki right away. I-I wanted to stand and fight, but, but, one of them hit me on the head and, and then all I could think to do was run. I ran and ran and I-I think they gave up at some point. I tried to make my way back to the house, b-but I feel down and I c-couldn't move any more. It hurt so much. I-I let Yuki down. She's gone. I-I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's okay," Oliver lied as he gently rocked the young boy, "We're going to go somewhere to get you help. Once you're feeling better we'll go find Yuki together."

"But- but…" Ryuto said before his protests died in his throat, "…I'm sorry…"

"It's going to be alright," Oliver stated, repeating the lie his mother had told him earlier that night, as he gently took the young boy onto his back. He felt Ryuto's muscles go lax in relief as he leaned his head on Oliver's shoulder and hooked his arms around Oliver's neck.

"I'm sorry," He kept repeating over and over, each time his voice growing softer, "I'm sorry."

"I told you it's going to be okay," Oliver tried to convince both of them as he continued to walk with the young boy. He knew he had to get away from their home; The Child Sweepers would likely come back in an attempt to find Ryuto or to see if there was anyone they had missed.

He had only one choice to make.

He headed back to the church as he kept whispering soft assurances to the young boy on his back. He kept telling him how they were going to find Yuki and free her from her captors; it was going to be a grand adventure like none anyone had ever experienced before. After they were reunited, they would have a feast with all the finest food in the world. Then, they would go to bed on soft pillows and beds with warm blankets.

"Doesn't that sound nice?" Oliver asked. His voice sounded strained to his ears; he could tell he was near his breaking point. He had to hold on; for Ryuto's sake, he had to hold on.

The young boy gave no response to the fantastical story; he simply repeated 'I'm sorry' once more in his quiet, quickly fleeing voice.

"You can apologize to me once we find Yuki," Oliver said with false bravado.

By the time they reached the church, Oliver was breathing heavily from exhaustion. The weight of Ryuto on his back coupled with the mental exhaustion of earlier that evening caused Oliver to wear out quicker than he had expected. It took the last of his strength to will his feet to carry him and Ryuto the rest of the way to the front door of the church.

"It's going to be okay," Oliver assured him once more as he looked up at the intricate door, "I have friends here; they'll take care of you."

Oliver wasn't quite sure if he was lying or not. It was true that Ann had helped him escape and invited him to come back, but he wasn't sure that meant she would be willing to help them now. He hoped desperately that her benevolent nature earlier that day hadn't been some sort of sick, twisted lie.

_"Of course I would know all about those…"_ Oliver thought bitterly as he laid his hands on the doorknob. The doors were closed tight; he assumed the Christmas Eve service was still going on inside. He didn't care. He would interrupt anything if it meant a chance for him to save the young boy current clinging to his neck. With determination in his eyes, he tightened his grip on the large gilded handles and gave a mighty tug.

The door remained closed.

Panic set in as Oliver pulled on the handle once more. Once more, there wasn't the slightest amount of movement of the door. They had locked it.

With desperation, Oliver began to bang on the doors.

"Please! Someone open the doors!" He called in his already hoarse voice, "Ryuto is hurt! You have to help him! Open the doors!"

He could hear the sounds of the choir performing and he with dark clarity, he realized that the people inside couldn't hear him over the sound of the strong, sweet voices.

To Oliver's ears, the song was sounding Ryuto's death knell.

"Please!" He called once more as he began to pound more furiously on the door; someone had to hear him if he was loud enough, "I don't care what you do with me, but please! Help him! Please!"

"Don't care what happens to you? Sounds like a deal to me kid."

Oliver didn't have time to turn around before he felt the sharp crack of something smashing into the back of his head. He fell instantly to the ground with a heavy thud as starbursts of pain littered his vision. His vision began to grow fuzzy around the edges as he was dully aware of the feeling of someone hauling him off the ground.

"This damn runt won't let go," A gruff voice said as Oliver felt someone attempt to pry Ryuto from his back. Oliver wanted desperately to fight back, but the pain in his head was slowly spreading to other parts of his body and his vision was fading rapidly.

The only thing he was keenly aware of was the small arms wrapped around his neck and the frail voice repeating one phrase over and over into his ear.

"I'm sorry."

_"No…I'm the one that's supposed to be saying that."_

"I'm sorry."

_"I…I couldn't protect you!"_

"I'm-"

The voice is cut off abruptly as Oliver feels the small hands around him forcibly removed. He began to struggle then, his legs kicking out in any direction in hopes of making contact with flesh. They can't; they can't take away his family!

"Damn, this kid's still got some fight in him."

"Then shut him up."

Another strong crack to the back of his head and Oliver's body went limp. He was only vaguely aware of the feeling of being bodily thrown into a vehicle that caused his body to jump and bang against the floor beneath him. The angelic voices of the boys' choir were quickly swallowed by the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This chapter ended up being pretty long...anyways, what did you guys think? Let me know and thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed so far!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait guys. I'll try to be more consistent in my updates. Can't promise anything though. Also, this is the chapter where we start getting into the meat of the story; let me know what you think.

* * *

><p>"Is this the new kid?"<p>

"Man…how old do you think he is? He's such a little runt!"

"How long ago did they haul him in?"

"Is…is he going to be alright? He still hasn't opened his eyes…"

"He'll be just fine. The Child Sweepers have been doing their jobs long enough; they know how to knock out a kid without killing them."

"But he's gonna have a real bad headache when he wakes up…I wish there was something we could do to help him…"

Oliver rolled onto his side in an attempt to escape the incessant chatter that was occurring above him. His head was pounding behind his closed eyelids and the voices weren't making the pain any more bearable.

"He…he moved!" A soft voice said with a gasp of surprise.

"See, I told you he would be just fine. The Child Sweepers may be sleazeballs who kidnap stupid kids like him for a living, but they never kill what they can use," A different voice added.

"'Stupid kids'? But, didn't they kidnap you also?" A male voice commented.

"Shut up Tonio! No one asked for your opinion!"

At the sound of the girl's raised voice, Oliver involuntarily winced as pain ripped through his head. He could feel something tickling at the back of his mind, telling him that he needed to wake up, but his thoughts were too scattered to bring him to any sort of action.

"S-Sonika, you need to calm down. All the yelling is going to wake him up!"

"Well then I say let it! He's slept long enough!" The girl who had yelled earlier practically screamed.

Another jolt of pain shot through Oliver's head as the woman's screech reached his ears. A soft groan escaped his lips as he once more turned in his state of half-sleep. He wished desperately that the voices would stop and he could fall back into the sweet black of oblivion.

"Hey, he's totally awake!" The screaming girl's voice said. A few seconds later, Oliver felt the feeling of hands on his shoulder as someone shook him violently, causing his brain to rattle in his skull. It took all of Oliver's energy to concentrate on keeping his stomach calm as pain continually shot through his entire body.

"S-Stop that Sonika! Y-you're hurting him!"

"If he's awake, he doesn't have the right to pretend to sleep! It's better if he learns about the hell he's been thrown into quickly!"

"I say let the kid sleep a little longer. It's only gonna be a nightmare from here on out."

"Screw that! If I have to suffer, he has to suffer too! I can't – I can't handle it alone! He has to suffer too!"

"…Sonika…"

"Alright all of you, that's enough for now. Sonika put the kid down."

Even though Oliver's eyes were still shut tightly and his head was spinning furiously, he could feel a heavy silence descend on the group. Apparently the new voice that had joined the conversation had some sort of authority over the three voices that had been speaking previously.

After what Oliver believed to be a few seconds, the hands that were gripping his shoulders slowly lowered him to the ground. He never felt more relieved to feel the cold ground on his cheek; it gave him an opportunity to try and collect his thoughts. The sudden shaking may have been jarring, but it also shook off the cloud of debilitating helplessness that Oliver was suffering from.

It was time to act.

_"From the sounds of it, there are four people in the room,"_ Oliver silently estimated to himself as he continued to feign at sleep, _"If I pretend to sleep long enough, one of them is bound to come and check on me. If I could only get ahold of some sort of weapon I could hold one of them hostage and demand they let me go…"_

Oliver's mind was working frantically to find some viable means of escape, but every strategy he thought up required him to have a weapon of some sort. Besides, he was badly outnumbered and he knew he couldn't risk injuring himself; after he escaped he would have to be healthy enough to find and rescue both Yuki and Ryuto. But he couldn't just lie there; he had to try something. He just had to wait for a perfect opportunity.

"Okay," He heard the authoritative voice say as he broke into Oliver's scheming train of thought, "I want everyone to back off the new kid until Lola and I have a chance to talk to him, alright?"

_"'Lola'? So there's one more than I thought…well it sounds like whoever's talking is going to approach me alone. This could be my chance!"_

Quickly burying his excitement, Oliver listened to the sound of murmured agreement before several sets of footsteps scattered in different directions. Then, a singular set of footsteps approached where he was lying on the ground. It took every ounce of control for Oliver to keep his breathing steady.

To his surprise, Oliver heard a low chuckle.

"You can stop pretending to sleep now," The male voice with authority said from a position Oliver estimated to be just above him, "You've been awake since the beginning of this conversation, right?"

It was a trap. He knew it was a trap. Oliver tried his best to control his breathing and wait for his opportunity to strike, but he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure the boy had noticed.

"M-Maybe he's really asleep?" A soft voice commented from a distance away.

"No, he's up. He's just pretending to sleep and looking for his opportunity to jump me."

He was caught. There was no escape. He was going to be killed.

Suddenly, he felt the distinctive feeling on a hand gripping his shoulder tightly; he felt his entire body run cold with fear. This was it. They were going to kill him.

_"I'm not going down without a fight!"_ As this thought entered his mind, he felt a hot wave of rage wash over him as he opened his eyes. Immediately, he jerked his shoulder back and felt the hand gripping him let go. His head was swimming and the sudden movement and bright light that seemed to scorch his retinas wasn't helping. But the adrenaline pumping through his system blocked all this out as he searched desperately for an escape.

Salvation came in the shape of a small, dingy door that was hanging wide open.

Silently thanking whatever higher power was watching over him, he immediately hauled himself off the floor. His legs felt wobbly and odd beneath him, but salvation was so close that he didn't care. He broke into a run as the door drew steadily closer. He was there! He was there!

A powerful force slammed into his back and the wind was knocked from his lungs as he landed hard on the floor. The pain returned to his head in full force as his head met the hard wood beneath him. He couldn't give up! Not now! He struggled against the weight on his back that was holding him down as he attempted to claw his way to the door, but his movement brought no results. He had been so close! Freedom was right there!

"-get yourself killed you damn idiot! Now quit moving or I'll make you stop!"

He felt the feeling of cold steel on his bare flesh before he ever saw the knife.

He swallowed noisily as the flat end of the knife was shoved against his windpipe, making it difficult to breath. His mind was blank with terror as the knife pulled back slightly, but still hovered mere centimeters away from the soft, vulnerable skin of his neck. Oliver consciously took shallow breaths as he looked at the blade flashing wickedly in the sunlight from the open door.

"That's better," He heard a voice issue coldly from above him, "Don't test me now. I've killed more people than you'll ever realize."

"Sonika, that's enough! Let the boy go!"

It was the authoritative voice speaking once again. Just like before, silence reigned with the exception of the sound of Oliver's ragged breathing. After a few second had elapsed, the pressure lifted from Oliver's back and the knife was removed from his throat. Immediately, Oliver took several gasps of unrestrictive air in an attempt to stop both his mind and his lungs from burning.

"Here, can you stand?"

A hand was extended in front of Oliver's face and a figure was blocking the doorway. Olive lifted his eyes to see a young man smiling gently down at him. His blond hair reflected some of the outside sunlight and his blue eyes looked friendly enough, but there was just something…off about him that Oliver couldn't quite place.

"I know you have no reason to trust me," The young man said, breaking into Oliver's train of thought, "But if you keep fighting us, you're just going to end up hurting yourself in the end. We're going to have to work together if we want to survive."

"…Survive what?" Oliver responded guardedly.

An inexplicable sadness flickered in the young man's eyes before it was carefully hidden away once more.

"I could explain to you, but it would probably be more comfortable for you to get up off the floor first."

Oliver wanted desperately to be defiant, to make another mad-dash for the door, but he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by this entire situation. He knew if he wanted any chance of surviving or gathering information, he would have to hold off on escaping for now. Reluctantly, he took the young man's hand and was hauled off the floor.

"There, that's better," The young man commented, "Come on, let's go sit down. We've got a long story to get through."

Oliver nodded, more as a force of habit than anything else, and followed the young man away from the door. But as the two of them continued to walk away, he couldn't help but glance longingly back at the still open door. Some part of his mind screamed that if he wanted to leave, this was his last opportunity; his last chance. He just had to turn around and run through the golden archway into freedom.

Instead, he turned away from the light and followed the young man deeper into the dingy room.

It felt surreal to Oliver. Moments ago, he had been pinned to the ground with a knife held to his throat. Now he found himself in some sort of shaky understanding with this young man that he didn't even know the name of.

As the duo reached the back wall of the room, the young man sat down on a small bed, sending up a small cloud of dust. He looked expectantly up at Oliver before he gently indicated the spot next to him. Still wary of the situation, Oliver chose to ignore his motion and continued to stand. He was aware it was childish, but standing allowed him to feel like he had some form of advantage in the situation.

"You're not going to sit down?" The young man asked.

"You haven't really given me any good reason to trust you; I don't even know your name," Olive answered guardedly. He wanted to keep up his defenses as long as possible.

"Ah, so that's it. My name is Leon, it's a pleasure to meet you," The young man, who was apparently named Leon, gave a slight nod of greeting before continuing on, "As for the trusting part, it's actually probably better if you _don't_ trust me."

"…What do you mean by that?"

"It's a dog-eat-dog world that you've just been thrown into. If you don't fend for yourself, if you don't make sure that you come out on top every time, you're going to get yourself killed."

"D-Don't talk like that Leon! Y-You sound like you're going to force him to leave!"

Both boys turned at the sound of a new addition to the conversation. Oliver's eyes fell on a young girl that looked to be a few years younger than him, with hair so shockingly blonde it was almost white. When she realized that she had voiced her opinions aloud, her pale green eyes went wide with shock and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes darted worriedly from Oliver to Leon.

"Don't worry Miriam," Leon said as he stood from the bed and walked to where the young girl stood trembling, "I'm just letting him know that he's been thrown into a very serious situation. I won't force him to leave; there's safety in numbers after all."

At the conclusion of his speech, he placed a consoling hand on the young girl's shoulder. At the touch, the girl winced slightly before she lowered her hands from her face and allowed a small smile to grace her lips. Seeing the smile, Leon squeezed her shoulder slightly and smiled gently down at her.

Oliver watched this exchange silently as he tried his best to work out the dynamic of this group. Were they a family? Were they involved in some sort of gang? How well did they know one another? These questions and so many others flashed through his mind. He wanted answers now; he hated feeling powerless and ever since he woke up in this odd place surrounded by these odd people, he felt like he had lost any sense of control of his life.

"That's all well and good, but how are we supposed to care for another kid? You saw how easy I downed him earlier; he's just going to be heavy weight. I say kill him now and save ourselves the trouble."

Oliver turned once more at the sound of another new voice. Leaning up against a wall with her arms crossed was a young woman who looked to be several years older than him. She had shocking green hair that was cut short and she was currently glaring down Oliver with her piercing green eyes. Oliver also took note of the fact that she had a knife strapped to her belt that her fingers were brushing up gently against.

"No," Leon answered with a voice heavy with authority, "You know the rules Sonika; we never kill anyone, even if it can be seen as a mercy killing. Each person should be given the slim possibility of survival that fighting brings them."

"Well it's a damn stupid rule. Just look at the scrawny thing; he probably can't even hold a knife properly!"

"I can hold a knife just fine!" Oliver said, a righteous wave of anger coursing through his system. He was aware of the fact that he would probably lose in a fight to the older girl, but he didn't care. In that moment, he wanted someone to be angry at, someone to blame, and Sonika and her attitude gave him a clear enemy.

"Stop trying to be such a little hot-shot! You were practically blubbering when I had you pinned to the floor before!" The older girl responded as she took a threatening step forward and gripped the handle of her knife.

"That's only because you attacked me suddenly from behind when I was dazed and confused!"

"You think the enemy will wait for you to be in top form before they attack? Well guess what little hot shot, they won't! You better learn right now that life is shitty and will knock you around when you least expect it!"

"I already know that! Do you think that the last few years of my life have been happy!"

"Alright you two, that's enough!"

Oliver's view of Sonika was suddenly obstructed by a young man stepping into his line of sight. Anger still controlling his every thought, he glared up at the young man, fully ready to beat him in order to get to Sonika and do the same to her. The young man returned the glare with what could only be described as a mockery of an honest smile.

"Out of the way Tonio!" Oliver heard Sonika yell, "The little brat needs to be taught a lesson!"

"Probably, but the way you want to teach him is only going to result in you getting in trouble for harming the Child Sweepers most recent catch," The young man, Tonio, replied in a calm and level voice that betrayed no emotion at all.

Oliver could hear the sound of angry sputtering from Sonika, but she formed no coherent words. After a few seconds, Oliver heard the distinctive sound of someone punching a wall before the sound of pounding footsteps filled the room.

"W-Wait Sonika," Miriam said as she took a slight step forward, "Where are you going?"

"Out!" Sonika responded tartly before Oliver heard her slam the door so hard it caused the entire room to shake in response.

Suddenly, Tonio dropped heavily to the floor.

"T-Tonio!" Miriam said as she ran to his side and began to fuss over him.

"Guess I was more scared than I thought…" Tonio commented almost casually.

"You should have just left it to me," Leon commented from where he stood next to Oliver, "There was no reason for you to step in."

"Probably not, but I couldn't help but be worried about the new kid. He reminds me of myself when I first arrived here."

At the mention of the "new kid", all eyes swept to where Oliver stood. Oliver tried his best to stand up tall and present the strongest façade of collectiveness he could manage. Underneath it all, he felt like he was slowly drowning in an insanity that there was no escape from.

"I'm sorry that your first experience here was so negative," Leon apologized as he turned once more to face the young boy, "But not everything Sonika said was incorrect. You're going to have to learn to fend for yourself, and you're going to have to learn fast."

"I'm already pretty good at it," Oliver answered defensively, "I've had to survive on the streets."

At the mention of his old life, Oliver couldn't help but conjure images of Yuki and Ryuto, which caused an acute pang of guilt to ring in his chest. Now that his adrenaline and anger was beginning to subside, his memories of what happened came rushing back; the door to their home being left wide open, Ryuto lying broken and beaten in the streets, pounding on the doors of the church and receiving no answer, the feeling of Ryuto being ripped from his back and his inability to protect himself, let alone his "younger brother".

He had failed them.

"I don't doubt that you've lived a hard life up till now," Leon said, breaking into his thoughts, "But what you're about to face is like nothing you've ever seen before."

"…What exactly do you mean?" Oliver probed gently. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, but something deep inside him told him that he had to ask. If he didn't, he would never get this chance again.

There was a pregnant and meaningful pause as Miriam, Tonio and Leon all made eye contact with one-another. If Oliver had to name the emotions that were raging on everyone's face in one word, he knew exactly what it would be: pity.

They pitied him.

Eventually, Leon turned once more to look at Oliver as he held his gaze meaningfully. If Oliver didn't know better, he would have sworn that Leon looked like he might start crying at any moment.

"You have been kidnapped by the Child Sweepers. Starting tomorrow, you will be trained to be a soldier. You will be trained to kill without mercy. You will be trained to think only of yourself and your personal survival. You will be trained to no longer have an identity."

A pause, as if Leon was searching for the right words.

"…You will be trained to be the perfect weapon."


	7. Chapter 7

It hurt to breath.

He could feel the gun smoke saturated air sear his lungs with each panicked breath as his heart raced like mad in his chest. He had run away from pursuers many times before, more times than he could count, but that had been different; he could run for a short distance and then find a hiding place to rest while his captors sped by.

There was no escaping from the individuals currently pursuing him.

They weren't like the shop-owners or the downtrodden police officers he was used to dealing with – they were men who were trained to kill and would hunt him relentlessly, like loyal hounds chasing a helpless young boar on orders from their master.

He couldn't remember how long he had been running from the men, from their weapons, from the angry shouts where words could not be discerned but their dripping hatred rang clear in his ears; he was pretty sure it had been hours. It felt like at any moment, both his lungs and heart would collapse into a useless pile and he would finally be able to rest.

Rest; it was a tantalizing word that Oliver couldn't help but mentally repeat to himself over and over. The word itself quickly lost meaning, but the intoxicatingly hopeful feeling it stirred in his chest continued on long after the meaning was gone.

It would be so nice to just stop.

But that would mean certain death.

CRACK!

The sound was deafeningly close, and Oliver couldn't help but flinch as a nearby tree's bark exploded from the impact, causing splinters of wood to shoot into the air. He felt a slight sting on his cheeks but he didn't allow the discomfort to slow him. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that having splinters in his face should have hurt a lot more than it did, but he couldn't allow his mind to dwell on the thought as his feet continued to pound like a frantic war-drum.

He had to escape! He had to get away!

Another bullet flew by and struck the ground near his foot, sending dirt painfully into his eyes. Momentarily blinded, he felt his footing go out from underneath him, causing him to come crashing to the ground. He gave an involuntary yelp of pain as he bit down on his tongue and felt the distinctive taste of blood flood his taste buds.

His head hurt, his eyes stung, his vision swam with exhaustion, his mouth tasted like iron, his lungs were burning; he could have conjured a million more reasons to just remain lying on the ground. Instead, he laboriously hauled himself from the ground and continued running in a raged and unsteady line.

At this point, he could discern a few words of the angry shouting that accompanied the never-ending sound of bullets raining down all around him. He wanted to look back to see just how close his pursuers had gotten, but that would require him to slow down and he wasn't willing to risk making himself an easier target.

Another bullet flew dangerously close to his face and Oliver reflexively closed his eyes and willed the knot of fear in his stomach to disappear. Fear made him weak; fear gave the opponent something to use against him; fear made his head hazy and his lung constrict in his chest. If only he could get rid of it.

But as his feet continued to lead him in a direction that he could only hope was away from his pursuers, the knot of fear simply seemed to grow more restrictive, more powerful. He was going to die; they were going to kill him.

Lungs burning, head pounding, entire body aching, he continued to run forward with almost maniac abandon. His mind had long ago discarded the white hope he had desperately clung to before. In its place, there stood a gnawing, all-encompassing fear. In the face of death, there was no bravery or bravado; he was terrified.

His thought continued to swirl with the blankness of fear, but a vague recess of his mind that was somehow untouched recalled the conversation he had with Leon the night before. The memory was faint and vague – little more than a phantom – but he remembered. He remembered Leon staring at him seriously as he outlined the training regime Oliver was about to be subjected to.

The days, laid out so methodically and precisely, stood as markers to catalog the time it would take for him to become the perfect weapon; the time it would take till the child once known as "Oliver" would be replaced with an obedient machine that followed that grand will of whatever powers had manufactured the war. As the sounds of his pursuers drew closer behind him, the only thing he could envision was Leon's face as he relayed the directive for the first day of training.

Day 1: Survival

* * *

><p>"…Survival?" He had echoed back as he looked up at the older boy. Before the word came out of Leon's mouth, Oliver had doubted his grip on reality, but now he knew for a fact that Leon was clinically insane. The Child Sweepers had captured him off the street to make him into a perfect soldier and to teach him how to survive? If Leon's expression wasn't so deadly serious, Oliver would have likely laughed out loud.<p>

Instead, he turned his head to look at Miriam and Tonio in an attempt to confirm the absurdity of what Leon had just said. Miriam was making it painfully obvious that she was avoiding Oliver's gaze as she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Tonio simply stared back with a serious expression that perfectly matched Leon. Finding no one to agree with him, Oliver turned once more to look at Leon.

"…So they're going to turn me into some sort of 'great weapon' and teach me how to survive?" He asked incredulously, "Do you realize how idiotic that sounds?"

"Trust me, I had the same reaction," Tonio stated, "But it's not a joke. Starting tomorrow, you will be subjected to a hell you can't even imagine."

"But-But why would they need a child to be the perfect weapon? Can't they just _invent_ a weapon or something! Why was I involved in this stupid project!"

As Oliver continued to speak his voice grew in both volume and desperation. He could feel the tell-tale prick of tears beginning at the back of his eyes. Previously, adrenaline and the shock of a new surrounding had numbed him to what was happening around him, but as both these phenomenon were beginning to wear off, reality came back with a defining crash. Panic was beginning to set in.

"You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Leon replied with a sad shake of his head.

"The wrong place at the wrong time?" Oliver roared back as he leapt forward and grabbed the front of Leon's shirt, "I wasn't in the wrong place! I was in front of a church! I should have been safe! They should have opened the door! If they had, Ryuto would…Ryuto would…"

Oliver felt suddenly drained as the memory of Ryuto clinging weakly to his back came rushing back. He remembered the shallow, dying breaths of the young boy on his back and his thin voice whispering apologies until he was taken from him. He could still hear the angelic voices of the boys' choir ringing out in crystal clear perfection, oblivious to the fact that his life was being forcibly ripped from him.

With a heavy thud, Oliver's knees hit the floor and his vision began to blur as the tears he had managed to repress so far rushed over him like a tidal wave.

It just wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair! He couldn't be stuck in this situation with these people! He had to help Ryuto and Yuki! They needed him! They needed him!

"Why? Why? WHY!" Oliver chanted over and over again, driven by a insatiable desire to have the question answered. Some part of his mind hoped that by finding the answer to this question, he would be able to escape his current predicament.

No answer was given to him.

In fact, no one in the room made a sound as Oliver cried loudly to himself. He could hear the sound of slight shifting of position, but no one moved to approach him and he didn't feel a consoling hand placed on his shoulder. But he could feel their eyes; he could feel their eyes staring at him as he displayed just how much of a child he was.

As his sobs gradually subsided and eventually reached their conclusion, he heard two sets of footsteps. He lifted his eyes to find both Leon and Tonio heading for the door. When Leon noticed his gaze, he gave a comforting smile.

"Don't worry; Tonio and I are just going to go find Lola and Sonika because it's getting late," He said, as a way of answering Oliver's unvoiced question, "We'll be back soon."

With a carefree wave from Tonio, the duo headed out the door and Oliver could do nothing but look at their retreating backs. The sickening feeling of drowning in uncertainty came unexpectedly back as he watched the two of them turn the corner and disappear.

"Don't worry, t-they'll be back before night and they'll bring Sonika and Lola back with them; I-I'm s-sure of it."

Oliver turned at the sound of the unexpected voice to find Miriam standing not far behind him with a weak smile plastered on her face. Her face was an unhealthy chalky white and she kept nervously wringing her hands; if anyone looked like they needed reassurance that everyone would be coming back, it was her.

"Sonika can go die for all I care," Oliver shot back bitterly, his voice still quivering slightly from the sobbing that had just concluded. He didn't really mean it, but he would choose appearing angry and collected rather than appearing like a sniveling child.

"P-Please don't say that!" Miriam squeaked as her eyes spread in terror, "I know she's wasn't very nice when you first met her, b-but we all have to stick together or we're not going to survive."

"You guys keep saying that, but I still have no idea what's going on."

"W-Well…I…I could try to explain it…" The young girl responded in a voice that informed Oliver that she wanted the exact opposite, but she was asking out of inescapable social obligations.

"Actually, that would be very helpful," Oliver said as he consciously tried to soften his voice and eliminate the quiver in his words by locking away his sadness. His breakdown was a moment of weakness that he didn't intend to duplicate.

Now wasn't the time to fall to emotions; now was the time to gather information about the situation around him and work with what he had; living on the streets had taught him the importance of this practice. He would get the information he needed and he would get it by any means possible.

"Oh, a-alright then…" The girl responded as her expression quickly became crestfallen. As he looked at the young girl who continued to shift nervously, he couldn't help but notice how frail and sickly she looked. Now that all the older children were gone, he felt the familiar instinct to protect those weaker than him flare up once more.

"How about you sit down? You look really nervous standing up," he said kindly as he indicated a spot near where he was sitting.

"Ah! A-Alright."

She quickly scrambled to the ground. Even though she couldn't shift from foot to foot any longer, she still moved her hands nervously in her lap and kept a safe distance from where Oliver was sitting, choosing to ignore the spot he had indicated.

"…O-Okay…l-l-let's start…" she stated, almost as if she was a teacher calling her class to attention, "S-So…uhm...you've been brought to a training camp and from this day onward you will be trained to be a soldier."

"A soldier?" Oliver echoed.

"Y-Yes, a soldier," She stated with a resolute nod of her head, "Starting tomorrow, there will be daily training exercise in order to prepare you to be able to kill without thinking…you'll learn how to handle weapons, how to survive in the wilderness, and most important, how to pull the trigger when you're told to."

"But why do they need to use kids like u- well, like you, to do that? Can't they just get adults?"

"They could, but Leon says that the war has been going on so long that they're running out of adults. He also says that adults can do more useful things besides be soldiers but we children aren't nearly as useful outside of war. Plus, they can easily find more children if they need them…"

"I…guess that makes sense…how exactly do they train us?"

"It depends on what lesson you're on. Since we have a new recruit, we'll all be starting over from the beginning again. That means they're going to dump us onto a battlefield and pursue us for two days. At the end of that time, they'll blow a horn and if you're still alive, you come back."

"But wouldn't that be the perfect opportunity to escape?"

"No," Miriam answered resolutely, "They have guards around the perimeter and they'll shoot anyone they see on sight. Anyone that's tried it before was killed almost instantly."

Oliver couldn't help but notice that when Miriam spoke about training, she seemed to disappear within herself. Her eyes became lifeless as she stared at an indeterminate spot on the floor. She stopped fidgeting nervously and her stutter vanished as if it had never been there. Oliver could only imagine what horrors Miriam had locked up in her head that caused her to act in this way.

"…So what happens when you finish your training?" Oliver asked as curiosity overtook his desire to not open old wounds in Miriam's heart.

"I-I don't know…" Miriam responded, her stammering returning suddenly as she shifted slightly, "I've been here a long time because I'm so small…I-I've watched a lot of people leave…b-but none of them come back…"

The young girl's voice tapered off into silence as her eyes began to fill with tears.

She reminded Oliver of Yuki.

Responding to an impulse he wasn't even aware was there, he pulled the young girl into a quick hug. When he released her, her eyes were wide with surprise, but the tears had also dried from the corner of her eyes.

"Don't worry," Oliver said, filling his voice with false confidence, "I'm sure they're all fine. After all, you've been hoping for the best for them, right?"

The surprise melted from her face, but she still couldn't find her voice. Instead, she chose to give a shaky nod of her head.

"I'm sure that your hope reached them and they're perfectly fine."

"B-But…what if I never see any of them again?"

"I'll make a promise with you; when we both finish our training, and when we both survive through the war, let's meet back here, alright?"

"We'll…meet back here? Do you…really, really, promise?"

"Of course. If you want, we could even make it a pinky promise."

"A-Alright…it's a promise," Miriam responded with a tiny smile and a bob of her head as she held out her pinky. Before Oliver had a chance to lock his pinky with hers, she jerked her hand back suddenly as her smile dulled slightly and concern filled her eyes, "Ah…uhm…I know we just made a promise…but what's your name?"

"Sorry, I forgot I never told you; it's Oliver."

"I-It's a very nice name," She responded as her smile returned once more, "I'm pleased to meet you Oliver, I'm Miriam."

"It's nice to meet you too Miriam."

"So…are we…uhm…friends now?"

It was the perfect opportunity; he could gain an advantage in this situation. In that moment, Miriam's role in Oliver's life shifted from a child that he had to protect to a friend that he could use to get ahead in a situation he didn't fully comprehend.

_In other words, a pawn…_

He shoved away the unbidden, truthful thought as he forced a plastic smile onto his face.

"Sure, we can be friends."

"Okay, friends!" Miriam said, her voice rising above a quite mumble for the first time since Oliver had met her.

That smile made Oliver feel terrible. He knew he was just using the young girl; he knew he only agreed to be her friend so she would be more inclined to help him survive.

_It's alright if you use her…she's probably doing the same for you._

_No…no she's not using me,_ he thought as he quickly banished the dark voice from his mind,_ and I'm becoming friends with her because I want to; I'm doing it because it's the _right _thing to do…because we need to help each other…_

But no matter how many times he repeated that mantra to himself, as he looked at the young girl's smiling, trusting face, he felt nothing but a dark feeling of guilt.

Of course he didn't show his turmoil on the outside. Instead, he smiled back at the young girl as the two of them brought their pinkies together to seal the promise.

* * *

><p>"Hey! I think I saw the new meat over here!"<p>

Oliver was pulled forcibly from his memory by the sound of a dangerously clear and dangerously close voice. Muttering whatever profanities he could conjure, he tried his best to pick up his speed, but he knew it was a futile hope. He was almost blinded with exhaustion and his heart was screaming in protest.

He thought vaguely that maybe he should try to find a place to hide, but the voices were too close for him to seriously entertain the thought. Besides, the men chasing him knew the lay of the land far better than him and he was sure they knew of all the hiding places children had used in the past and were quick to search those areas and dispose of any "meat" they found there.

It didn't matter to them how many they killed in training; they could always find more.

It was fear of death alone that drove Oliver to keep running past the point of exhaustion. In this situation, his wit or quick thinking wouldn't save him; primal survival instincts were the only things keeping him alive.

Oliver couldn't help but feel an ironical smile slip onto his face.

Day 1: survival; he had learned the lesson well.

His smile was quickly snatched away by the sound of several dangerously close shots. A few of them were so close he could feel the heat as they ripped through the hazy air. He involuntarily closed his eyes once more and tried his best to keep his breathing at least mildly steady.

"Oliver! Come this way!"

Hearing his name called in a place where he was nothing more than "meat", Oliver flung his eyes open and nearly tripped once more.

He had to be hallucinating; he had died and this was all just a dream. Either that or his oxygen deprived brain was playing cruel tricks on him.

Running right next to him was Miriam. Her light blonde hair trailed behind her, her pale cheeks were colored beat read with exhaustion, and her eyes shown with a mixture of fear and hope. Framed by the haze of battle, she almost appeared to glow like an angelic messenger. Despite being significantly shorter than Oliver, she kept perfectly in stride with him.

Not waiting for a proper response, Miriam went crashing into the woods, leaving Oliver running by himself once more. He hesitated for just a second before he entered the woods in the exact same spot as Miriam.

As he followed the small girl and her flying hair, he heard the voices begin to recede behind him. His mind was shouting at him that he shouldn't trust Miriam – she was probably just using him like he was using her. But he thought about how she had made herself know, how she had willingly put herself at risk in order to help him, and he knew there was no question that he would follow her.

She considered him her friend.

The thought made his stomach knot worse than the running ever would.


	8. Chapter 8

Oliver tried his best to keep pace with Miriam, but he found himself falling steadily behind. The young girl continued to dart lithely through the forest, dodging branches, roots, and any other obstructions that might slow her pace; it seemed almost as if she had memorized the lay of the land. Unfortunately, Oliver was not blessed with the same knowledge and he kept stumbling as the duo plunged deeper into the forest.

Every time he felt his balance thrown slightly, his heart leapt to his throat in terror. If he collapsed to the ground, would he be able to get back up again? Would Miriam wait for him to collect himself? He had no answers and no reason to trust that she would wait for him, so he just gritted his teeth every time he stumbled and concentrated on ensuring that the ground didn't rush to meet him.

But despite his best effort, his mind kept growing hazier and staying up-right seemed increasingly impossible. It took all his willpower to continue to follow the blur of white-blonde that represented Miriam. He watched as she made a sharp right-turn and suddenly disappeared from sight – it took Oliver's exhaustion laden mind several seconds to process that she had broken through the foliage and was now concealed by the same.

_I've followed her this far and she hasn't led me into a trap_, Oliver thought to himself as his footsteps led him closer to where he had seen the frail girl disappear, _If I'm going to trust her to lead me somewhere safe, I suppose I shouldn't just leave right at the end._

His resolution reached, he crashed through the underbrush, branches slapping his face. The first thing he became aware of was that Miriam was standing still; the two of them had reached their ultimate destination. The second thing he became aware of was that he was standing on the edge of a small clearing in the forest. The third thing he became aware of was that he had collapsed to the ground; whether it was from exhaustion, relief, or a combination of the two he really couldn't say.

All he knew was, for the time being, he was safe.

And it was all thanks to Miriam placing her own well-being in grave danger.

His mind was quick to inform him that she deserved his trust for this feat – after all, what greater show of sincerity was there than risking your life for someone? Since the moment he woke up in a strange room full of strange people, Miriam had been nothing but cordial to him.

Yes, it should have been easy to trust her.

He didn't.

He couldn't.

He needed to get out of this situation alive so he could look for Ryuto and Yuki; trusting someone was a weakness he couldn't allow himself; caring for someone was a weakness he couldn't allow himself.

He had already seen the disastrous results that caring for someone could bring about.

There was a hand shoved in his face. Normally his reflexes would have caused him to jerk back, but it seemed that exhaustion had robbed him of even his basest instincts.

"C-Can you stand?"

Her voice was weak and uncertain, but it sounded as if she had full control of her breathing – no one would have guessed that she had just made a mad dash through a dense and winding forest. On the other hand, every breath that Oliver took was both a wonderful blessing and a painful experience that seared his lungs and rattled his chest.

He couldn't help but wonder just how much training Miriam had been forced to undergo to achieve that level of athleticism on the battle field.

Returning his mind to the current state of affairs, he raised his eyes from Miriam's hand to look at her face. Although her cheeks were flushed and her face was speckled with sweat, a tiny smile decorated her lips and her eyes were wide and trusting.

Oliver could only bring himself to look at her for a few seconds before gnawing guilt compelled him to look away.

"Do we need to move again?"

Even to his own ears his voice sounded raspy and weak, clearly betraying the exhaustion that had brought him to his knees in the first place.

"N-No, not really. But, I just…thought maybe you would like to go sit in the shade? I-I mean it's fine if you want to stay here, it just might be more comfortable there and well, I mean, we can't stay here forever…"

"I'll be fine here. Once I catch my breath, we can move on."

He deliberately chose to ignore the hand that hovered in front of his face.

"O-Oh, well, if that's what you want…please feel free to rest here. This is a safe area after all. Ah! Hold on, there's something…something that I have to give you."

Her hand was reluctantly retracted and Oliver heard the sound of bare feet on the leafy underbrush as she walked away from him. Careful to keep his head down so she wouldn't know she was tracking him, he watched as she approached a nearby tree and began to rummage around the roots.

Oliver's heart rate and paranoia spiked in equal measures.

Had she simply brought him here to kill him? Was she retrieving some weapon so she could put a swift end to his life? Was this her twisted idea of mercy? Had everything she said back in the cabin been nothing more than a ploy to catch him off guard?

Ever muscle in his body tensed as he watched her. He knew it was pointless – he lacked the strength to stand, let alone run away. If Miriam wanted to kill him, she had found her perfect opportunity.

When she turned around, Oliver felt his ragged breathing abruptly stop. Miriam held a small knife. Although it was crudely sheathed, he could that the blade was well-tended by the immaculate state of the handle. As she drew closer to where he was paralyzed, Miriam didn't lift her face from the dagger in her hands.

Trusting her was the wrong decision.

Oliver's head screamed for him to move, but his body was unable to respond. The mixture of fear and exhaustion kept him pinned to where he was collapsed on the ground. Now that Miriam had drawn closer, he could see that the knife was almost identical to the one Sonika had used against him.

"Please," He heard Miriam say softly as she knelt in front of him, "P-Promise me that you won't uhm…hurt me."

"Hurt you?" Oliver parroted slowly as Miriam's words sank into his mind.

"Y-Yes…I…I want you to take this. Sonika gave it to me to defend myself but…I…can't…just can't do it…" Her voice grew quieter as her explanation continued on and she averted her eyes from Oliver. He could have sworn that he heard the tell-tale warble of the voice that preludes tears.

His eyes settled on the knife once more before he gently took it from her hands, his fingertips brushing lightly against her palms. Miriam's hands shot to her chest and Oliver saw a pale pink color alight on her cheeks.

Not only had she provided him with a weapon that the others didn't know about, but she had also betrayed that maybe her trust of him was developing into something even easier to manipulate. He heard the pesky voice of his consciousness chime in that he shouldn't take advantage of a vulnerable girl in this situation.

The voice was silenced as he pulled the blade from its sheath.

As he examined and turned the knife in his palm, he found himself mentally repeating the mantra that had managed to keep him alive for so many years.

Fond memories and kind thoughts didn't help you survive; thievery and lying did.

Surviving this war would be no different. All he had to do was throw away his consciousness – everything that marked him as a soft, easily manipulated human. Instead, he would rely on the darker sides of the human spirit to get him through his ordeal.

It was the only option available to him.

To ensure that he found Yuki and Ryuto, he would be forced to throw away the very kindness that had driven him to being intent on protecting them in the first place.

If it meant that he could see them even just one more time, he would be willing to do it – he would be willing to do anything.

He would survive in order to find his family.

To survive, he would harden his heart.

His evaluation of the knife complete, he slid it back into the sheath and turned once more to the waif-like girl. She was still standing, but she was staring intently at him, obviously waiting for him to say something.

A smile crossed Oliver's lips as he gently ran his hand along the knife's handle.

"Thank you so much Miriam."

His words had an instant impact on the younger girl, causing her to give a vicious bob of her head as a smile broke onto her face. Her expression shifted into happy embarrassment once more as color graced her cheeks before she muttered something about having some rations stored away and scuttling off to the tree once again. Oliver watched her go as his smile dropped slightly, responding to his lingering conscious.

* * *

><p>Everything was shaking.<p>

An unsteady moan escaped Oliver's lips as his bleary eyes slowly opened. He was greeted with an unfamiliar, fuzzy face and even more vigorous shaking.

"We don't have time for this!" He heard a gruff voice whisper, "You need to get up now Oliver!"

The use of his name effectively swept away his cloud of exhaustion and confusion as his eyes focused for the first time on the individual in front of him. It took several moments for Oliver's mind to identify the person as Tonio. It took several more moments for his mind to process that his vision was uncertain because Tonio was still vigorously shaking him as he held him aloft by the lapels of his jacket.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Oliver grumbled as he tried to squirm out of Tonio's grasp. His efforts were rewarded by Tonio dropping him unceremoniously back onto the ground. A grunt escaped Oliver's lips as he glared with as much malice as he could muster at the older boy.

"What the hell was that about?!" Oliver asked harshly. Tonio responded by making an urgent shushing motion.

"I don't have time to be gentle right now! We have to go!"

With no further explanation, he turned and crashed into the forest. Oliver's mind was too shocked by current events to take any actions as he continued to stare at the location at which Tonio had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. Was it possible that he was delusion and this was just some form of waking dream?

CRACK

The sound was so disturbingly easy to identify that Oliver felt his body spring into action before his mind even had a chance to begin issuing orders. By the time his mind supplied him with the words "gunshot" "tree" "pursuers" and "escape", he was already plunging through the forest at maximum speed. He found his hand instinctively lingered on the hilt of the dagger as he continued his dead run in the general direction Tonio had fled.

His pursuers were close enough for him to hear their gunshots, but he couldn't hear their voices, indicating that they weren't dangerously close just yet.

Now that his feet were pounding the ground rhythmically, his mind began to fill in the gaps of what had happened. He remembered that no matter how much he argued, Miriam insisted she keep the first watch and that he attempt to get some sleep. Eventually he reluctantly agreed which caused Miriam to beam widely before she left the clearing, leaving Oliver alone with his thoughts.

Apparently he managed to fall asleep at some point because the next thing he remembered was Tonio shaking him awake.

But where in the world had Tonio come from and where was Miriam?

Both questions were pushed from his mind as he heard a nearby shout. The words were indistinguishable, but he could clearly tell by the tone of voice that the one speaking was a female. The tone was deep and rough indicating that whoever it was, it wasn't Miriam. Oliver felt his grip on the handle of the knife tighten as he tried his best to run in a straight line while also keeping an eye on the general direction of the voice.

Suddenly, there was another voice sounding nearby, this one decidedly male and coming from the opposite direction of the female voice. Oliver's throat constricted in a moment of panic – they had him surrounded.

His only hope was to break through the forest, figure out where his two pursuers were, wound them or impede their progress in some way, and make a break for it. With that goal in mind, his eyes hardened as he picked up his pace. Within seconds, he felt the tell-tale scrape of branches on his skin as he emerged from the forest onto a rutted dirt road. He spun on his heel a moment before his two pursuers crashed from the underbrush.

Oliver could only stare in stunned silence.

It was Leon and Lola, each of them panting hard as they stared at him. Oliver watched as the two of them exchanged a glance before Lola's blue eyes narrowed.

"This isn't time to stop right in the middle of the road Ollie-boy."

With that statement made, she rushed past him and once more into the forest. The shock still held Oliver to the stop as he felt a sharp tugging on his arm. His attention turned to find Leon staring at him with a harsh expression that mirrored the one Lola had made moments before.

"We need to move."

Oliver gathered his senses enough to give a slow nod of his head. The action was greeted with a smile from Leon before he clamped his hand on Oliver's arm and began to drag him in the direction Lola had fled. Although his feet were unsteady, Oliver managed to prevent himself from falling over as Leon dragged him wherever he willed. With his mind momentarily freed from the task of having to navigate, Oliver found his thoughts snagging on a singular question.

Where had they all come from?

If Miriam had been the one to wake him or the one to lead him through the dense forest, it would have made perfect sense – she had been keeping watch after all. However, he had been woken by Tonio and was being led through the forest by Leon. It didn't add up.

The only reason they would all be there was if…

"…they were following me the whole time."

The revelation was so obvious and yet so completely insane that Oliver couldn't help himself as it escaped his mind and pervaded the air. They had been following him the whole time. Additionally, judging by the actions they had taken up to this point, they had been following him with the intention of _protecting_ him.

His head hammered with this revelation, his emotions such a flustered mess that he couldn't consciously separate them out and name them. Instead, they just continued to assault his senses, making his already exhausted body thrum with displeasure.

"Oliver, I need you to pick up your feet. I won't be able to drag you for much longer."

The sound of Leon's voice brought Oliver back to the present as he once more registered the hand gripping his arm. Oliver had to fight back the overwhelming urge to snatch his arm away and demand some answers – why had they been following him? What were they expecting out of him in return? Instead of answering to this dangerously alluring call, he once more gave a muted nod of his head and concentrated on moving his feet as swiftly as possible; he would have time to dwell on this development later.

All sense of time was lost until Oliver heard the blaring sound of a horn.

The sound was ugly and intrusive, but to Oliver's ears it sounded like nothing less than the sweetest clarion call. He felt the pressure on his arm lift as Leon finally allowed the two of them to stop running. The horn signaled the end of their first phase of training. It seemed too good to be true.

"Are we really done?" Oliver asked, his voice sounding obviously worn down by exhaustion, even to his own ears.

"For now," came Leon's ominous reply, "First we have to go back and attend the head-count."

The head-count: it was something Oliver had heard the other kids talk about. From his understanding, it was when all the kids within the training compound were gathered together after a training exercise and counted to see how many remained. Leon had explained that this practice allowed the soldiers to ascertain when they needed to contact the Child Sweepers to kidnap more children.

However, from the way everyone spoke about it – eyes downcast and voices hard and steely – Oliver knew there was something more to it. All Leon would tell him was that he needed to prepare himself to see some gruesome things.

As the two of them walked along, Oliver's mind once more ran through the events that had led him to this point. There was something off about the whole exchange…it took him several minutes of contemplation, but the pieces slowly fell into place.

_"You need to get up now Oliver!"_

_ "This isn't time to stop right in the middle of the road Ollie-boy."_

_ "Oliver, I need you to pick up your feet."_

Oliver…

How had any of them known his name?

The only person he had told his name to was Miriam.

Oliver was about to demand an answer when Leon pulled up short, causing Oliver to stop abruptly as well.

They had made their way to a concrete building that Oliver already recognized as the place where all their so-called handlers were housed. Already a large crowd of children had gathered and a set of handlers were barking at them to collect themselves into a straight line.

"There are this many people here?" Oliver couldn't help asking as he scanned the crowd of unfamiliar, dirty faces.

"Yeah. There are a number of cabins and buildings filled with children all across this compound. They keep us separated in an attempt to prevent any sort of large-scale action that may lead to a coup."

_These guys have a well thought out operation…escape will be more difficult than I thought…_ Oliver mentally conceded to himself as he took his place in line.

Difficult yes, but not entirely impossible.

There had to be a way out. He was going to _find_ a way out.

As people continued to file in from the woods, Oliver scanned their faces carefully. He watched as Tonio, Sonika, Lola, and even Miriam emerged from the forest. Each time he saw a familiar face, his heart lept in relief no matter how many times he tried to remind himself that he couldn't trust any of them. The safety of those he knew confirmed, he allowed his eyes to scan the faces of the others emerging from the forest.

The only things they all had in common were that they were children and that their clothing looked gritty. Of course it made perfect sense; if the Child Sweepers started kidnapping children that actually had families, people might start to notice. On the other hand, if a couple of street urchins went missing, it was almost a blessing. Things were less likely to be stolen if there were less hungry mouths around.

The flow of children emerging from the forest gradually came to an end as the last of them were forced into a row. This task complete, one of the soldiers emerged from the forest dragging something behind him. Oliver felt Leon tense next to him.

A few seconds later, Oliver understood why.

The soldier was dragging a corpse.

The body looked like a young girl, the remains of a dress still hung on her skeleton-thin frame and her messy blonde hair was plastered to her head via the excessive amounts of blood that had escaped her. Her eyes were large, dilated, and cloudy, making her appear to be something less than human – Oliver was reminded of the dead fish he sometimes saw at market. The entire front of her dress was covered in blood and the clothing was practically torn to shreds.

She had been shot.

She had been shot over and over and over again.

When the soldier reached where the children were standing, he unceremoniously threw the corpse to the ground, resulting in a loud thud. Silence filled the air.

"She failed today's trials," The soldier who had dragged her in intoned in a strong and clear voice, his simple statement portraying his message clearly.

The children made no response.

"You may return to your residence now."

There was a moment where no one moved before the children began to slowly disperse. Oliver could do nothing but stare at where the dead girl lay. He could just as easily end up like her if the soldiers thought that he wasn't living up to standards; if he didn't follow the whims of his handlers, he could seal the fates of himself, Ryuto, and Yuki.

He had to do what the soldiers were telling him to do.

He didn't want to die.

He didn't want to die.

Listen to what they say, and you can live.

Day 1: survival.


End file.
